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Authors: Heather Killough-Walden

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her body, except for the slit on one side that ran from the floor to the top of her thigh. The undershirt had billowy sleeves that laced around her arms with sapphire blue ribbon, from

her shoulders to her wrists. The delicate bodice was blue and black lace, tied up the front, made to rise just beneath her breasts.

As a finishing touch to the ensemble, tall black boots with high but sturdy heels were

slipped onto her feet and pulled up and over her knees to top off at her mid-thighs. The

entire effect of the clothing was that Raven felt more attractive than she had ever before.

She finished tying the laces before her mirror then took a deep breath. It was time to

return to Kriver.

“I’m ready,” she said.

Almost instantly, the air shimmered around her, and she was pushed and pulled

through that familiar twist in time and space until, a bit lightheaded and a little shaky, she was left standing in a tavern room, her brother lying asleep on one of the two beds it had

been furnished with.

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Heather Killough-Walden

She moved to his side and gave him a gentle nudge.

He moaned in his sleep and rolled over, only to roll right off the edge of the small

mattress and land flat on his back on the hard wooden floor. His eyes flew open and he

immediately tried to gain his footing. It took a few moments for him to realize that they

were no longer standing in Marrianne’s great room.

He turned to look at his sister, and his eyes widened dramatically. He scanned her

tall form, from head to toe, staring at her clothing as one who had never seen the night

would look upon the moon.

Raven smiled sympathetically. “You’ve been out for a while. We have a lot to talk

about.”

Loki didn’t answer. He just stared at her a few moments more, and then ran a hand

through his reddish hair and sat, unsteadily, on the edge of the bed.

Raven took a deep breath and sat beside him. It was going to be a long day.

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The Chosen Soul

The Chosen Soul – Chapter Ten

Raven had been right about one thing. The day had, indeed, been long. She did her

best to explain to Loki what had happened with the prince, and then in Caina. She

explained to him who she was, what Malphas had shown her, and hoped, as she spoke in

soft tones, that he would come to understand.

Loki had never looked so uncomfortable in his life. Raven’s gut clenched thinking

about how he must feel at that moment. His sister was the daughter of Lord Malphas, the

one devil he had most likely prayed she would not be the daughter of. And then she had

taken his unconscious form into that forbidden place of ice and desolation, as far as

possible from the warmth and love that he associated with his god, Haledon.

The worst of it, though, was her transformation. She’d changed in front of him,

slowly, so as not to distress him so much that he attacked her. The look on his face when

he saw what she could become would leave an indelible scar upon Raven’s spirit. She

knew, at that moment, that she had, in some way, finally managed to isolate herself from

her brother.

He would not tell her so, of course. He had simply watched her become Winter and

then become Raven once again. And then, his face bloodless, his gaze distant, he had left

her alone in the tavern room.

When he returned, several hours later, the sun was beginning its descent. He would

not tell her where he had been. An uncomfortable silence matured between them, until

finally, it was time for bed.

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Heather Killough-Walden

Earlier that morning, Malphas had transported Raven and her unconscious brother to

a rented room in a tavern owned by a man who, apparently, would ask no questions about

his tenants. Everything had been procured prior to their arrival.

They had bedding and clothing and food, which Loki would not touch.

The two of them prepared for sleep and climbed into their respective beds. Loki

reached for the bedside flame and Raven hazarded one last question before he could

extinguish the lamp.

“What will we do now?” she asked quietly.

There was a long pause before her brother answered. “It isn’t safe for us to stay in

Trimontium. We’ll head out for Isca in the morning.”

He pinched the base of the wick and darkness flooded the room. They lay, silent, in

the gloom for a while. Raven knew her brother did not sleep. She could feel his mind

spinning almost as if it were her own. She fidgeted with her covers, fluffed her pillow,

and rolled over. Then, a few minutes later, she rolled over onto her other side. Her head

began to ache.

Loki, for his part, did not move and did not acknowledge her restlessness. Finally,

Raven settled into a position on her back, pillow tossed onto the floor, long legs kicked

out from beneath the covers. A part of her desperately wanted to cry.

A soft sound, barely audible, grabbed her attention. She turned her head to listen in

the direction of the door. Her breathing slowed as she concentrated on the sound. But she

heard nothing else. It was, perhaps, a mouse, or the timbers of the inn settling. She

sighed, silently chastised herself for her agitation, and closed her eyes.

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The Chosen Soul

And at that instant, the door to their room came crashing open, splintering loudly as

it did so, sending shards of wood flying in all directions. Raven screamed and ducked

beneath her covers for fear of being struck by the sharp pieces. In the next few seconds,

rough hands grabbed her from the bed, hauling her off of the mattress by her upper arms.

She tried to call out, summon her powers, but a strong hand covered her mouth, blocking

the sound with a small white towel. She struggled viciously, kicking one of her attackers

and clawing at her captor’s face, but her efforts were useless and dwindling, as the fumes

from the cloth held over her mouth were beginning to have an unpleasant effect.

She was weakening. There was an evil churning in her stomach. The room and its

inhabitants were blurring. From above the white tuft of cloth held over nose and mouth,

she saw Loki stumble from his bed. Before he could even clear the clinging covers of his

rented mattress, two men were upon him. One swung a lead pipe like a cudgel, and the

other ran doubled-up fists into Loki’s midsection. Raven watched as her brother went

down.

And then she joined him in oblivion.

*****

Prince Astriel rose from his throne and descended the stairs from his dais. He turned

and nodded to the guards who stood waiting at the double doors to his throne room.

“Show him in.”

The guards opened the large double doors, revealing a single human male standing in

the hallway beyond. The man came forward, his tall black boots echoing on the smooth

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Heather Killough-Walden

marble floor. He stepped into the light of the huge chamber, and Astriel studied his

impressive form as he came toward the throne.

He was a very tall man, most likely standing somewhere near six and a half feet. He

was perfectly proportioned, sporting a strong, broad musculature that bespoke of

strenuous training and strength of will. His skin was swarthy, dark, and only slightly

marred by the fine lines of the sun’s perpetual kiss. His eyes, where they peered out from

that dark skin, were of a stark contrast, like liquid metal, silvery gray and intensely

sentient. The man’s long black hair, which fell below his shoulders, had obviously been

left alone out of a heedlessness to his appearance. However, it only managed to add to his

dangerous appeal.

But it was the man’s dark clothing that was Astriel’s real concern. For he wore the

seal of the Bounty Hunters of Tanith in prominent relief on the chest armor of his entirely black garb. A giant sword with a pommel and scabbard of metal bore the same seal, and

lay menacingly visible, strapped across the man’s back. At his waist was a dagger of

similar make, sheathed in black leather on his belt.

The man came to a halt before the prince, and did not bow.

Astriel addressed him. “Drake of Tanith, your reputation precedes you. I have called

you to Eidolon because you are allegedly the most accomplished bounty hunter in all of

the realms.”

The man said nothing. After a moment, he nodded. Once.

“Very well then. I’ll not waste words.” Astriel stepped past him and moved to a giant

marble bowl that rested, on a pedestal, in the center of the room. “This is the woman you

are to find. I will assist you with necessary information, a squad of guards, and any

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The Chosen Soul

equipment you need. Though, I am well aware that you can afford all of these things a

thousand times over. Which brings up a point.” Astriel narrowed his gaze and met the

man’s molten silver stare dead on.

“You wish to know why I have accepted your appointment.” Drake of Tanith’s voice

rolled off of his tongue like distant thunder, a deep resonant base, precise and smooth.

The prince said nothing. Drake nodded, the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his

mouth. “I enjoy a challenge. The bounty you mentioned in your summons suggests that

this target will be nothing less.”

Astriel smiled bitterly. He had indeed offered up a large bounty for Raven Grey’s

safe return, and for precisely that reason. It was as he had suspected. Tanith no longer

accepted every work he was offered. He was a very wealthy man, who had been doing

what he did for a very long time. He would need incentive. The bounty was large enough

to peak his curiosity.

“It will not be effortless,” Astriel said slowly, with a slight nod of his head. “That, I

can assure you.” He waved his hand over the water, and its surface shimmered. When it

calmed down again, Raven’s beautiful face could be seen in the water’s depths.

Drake stared at the image. For a long while, he did not blink.

“This is an image pulled from memory. She was in Trimontium as early as yesterday.

She travels with her brother,” Astriel told him and then waved the image away.

Drake peered at the empty water where Raven’s visage had been a moment before.

And then he glanced up, met the prince’s gaze once more. He was quiet for a while and

then, hands casually on his hips, head cocked slightly to one side, he said, “You don’t

need me, elf. Why haven’t you retrieved her yourself?”

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Heather Killough-Walden

Astriel smiled. “I have my reasons. And be forewarned, Tanith. She may not be

entirely human. But then,” the Prince said as he turned his back on the bounty hunter and

climbed the stairs to sit on his throne, “so few of us are.”

They eyed each other in silence for several seconds.

And then Drake turned and walked out of the room.

*****

Loki rocked back and forth, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, his legs pulled

up, knee to elbow. The bench beneath him creaked with his constant movement.

Beside him sat Summer on one side, her hand gently rubbing his back. On his other

side stood a man in yellow, gold and red robes. Around his head, the man wore a circlet

of smooth gold. It bore a symbol of the sun, which rested against his lined forehead.

“We’ll find her, Loki,” Summer told him softly. She had seen him early that

morning, running past her farm, on the trail that led from the city to Haledon’s temple.

She hurried after him, wondering what had become of his sister.

Once inside, she had approached him. And, in a fit of pain and desperation, he had

told her
everything
.

And despite the fact that his sister was Malphas’s daughter, Summer had remained

with him in the temple, standing close by as he was healed. She had not judged him or

accused him.

He wondered what he had done to deserve this new friendship.

“Everything is going to be all right,” she said.

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Loki shook his head and stopped rocking. He ran a hand through his hair and then

placed both hands over his face and gave a short, loud sound of frustration.

When he removed them, his jaw was tense, his teeth clenched. “I was so horrible to

her. Haledon only knows what has become of her, and wherever she is, whatever is

happening, she thinks I hate her. That I
abandoned
her!”

He stood then and pushed past them both, heading straight for the altar.

He stopped before the chantry and looked up at it. A giant bronze sun glimmered in

the sunlight shed by skylights in the temple’s roof. Beneath the sun hung two crossed

axes, elaborately decorated in gilded tri-colored gold, platinum and silver. They were

Haledon’s axes, their sharp rounded blades, when crossed and laid one on top of the

other, forming a miniature sun of their own.

Loki gazed at these weapons for a long, silent while, and then turned to face the

robed acolyte. “You are able to heal me. Can you also find my sister?”

The man sighed and moved out from behind the bench. He approached Loki and

placed his hands, palm-down, upon his shoulders. “I can try. It will take some time.” He

studied Loki carefully for a few moments and then added, “Why don’t you assist me? I

can feel your need to help. Haledon would never deny a soul that wished to take action

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