Drake of Tanith (Chosen Soul) (7 page)

He stood, stepped away from the tree, and turned in a slow circle, truly seeing his surroundings for the first time. He cocked his head and listened. There were pipes playing nearby. And drums. They sounded like the accompaniments of street performers. It was late in the afternoon and the city of Trimontium wasn’t far. Once he got close enough, he could transport himself inside. He was able to do this over short distances, though that particular magic was more draining than most. He normally required feeding soon afterwards, and in this case, as hungry as he already was, he might need to do so beforehand as well. Devils were not able to use their magic without consuming life. Most devils simply ate meat with every meal.

Raven Grey was an exception. It was one of the many things Drake found intriguing about her. Because she was the Chosen Soul, because she possessed a soul that had lived thousands of lives, she was too enamored with life to take it from anyone or anything else for any reason other than self-defense. She did not consume meat. Instead, she drank blood. And it was always freely given.

Drake closed his eyes briefly as another wave of hunger and need rolled through him, laced with the pleasure of the memory of Raven sinking her sharp little fangs into his wrist.

When he opened his eyes again, his own fangs had grown. He could feel a darkness there, ebbing closer. He definitely needed to feed. But, as it was for Raven, it was never a problem for Drake either. Blood could be found anywhere.

Drake took a moment to settle his nerves and get himself under control before he followed the music he heard until he came to the road that led into the city. As usual, merchants were traveling in and out of the city, along with delivery services and performers of various kinds. Drake stopped at the edge of the road and considered the guarded gates. They were manned by elves and there was no way that Astriel’s men were going to allow Drake of Tanith back into Trimontium. He would have to transport for certain.

Loki froze where he stood in the middle of the vast field of late-day-lit sunflowers that graced the land around Haledon’s temple. He wasn’t sure he’d just heard what he thought he’d heard. But the sound came again.

A footstep, light and instantly recognizable. And then his name. “Loki?”

Loki whirled around, his eyes wide, his heart racing. “Raven!”

His sister stood at the end of the same row of towering blooms. She wore the magical clothing that had been fashioned for her in Caina by her father’s tailors. She also wore a shimmering light blue cloak and a flattering, delicately hewn circlet. Her hands were clasped nervously before her. Her expression was one of ambivalence; half wariness, half relief.

Loki wasted no time. He was off and running toward his twin without a second thought. She let out a whoosh of air when he jerked her into his arms and bear hugged her. And then, a second later, she was hugging him back just as tightly.

“I’m so sorry I scared you,” she said, her voice tight due to her temporarily compressed air passages. “I couldn’t get out and I didn’t even
know
that I couldn’t get out.” She was mumbling now, speaking quickly, but he understood perfectly.

“It’s okay, sis. It’s not your fault,” he told her. Finally, and very slowly, he pulled away. She had tears on her cheeks. As a breeze brushed by him and chilled his own face, he was surprised to find that he did as well. “How did you get here?” he asked.

Loki’s eyes widened. “You want to go to the
Witherlands
?” Concern blossomed within him. It wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence to step into another realm, and he certainly had mixed feelings about Tanith. Besides, beings capable of opening portals to other realms were few and far between. He wasn’t one of them and neither was Raven.

But Raven didn’t reply; the look on her face was answer enough.

“So you
do
plan to go after Tanith,” Loki said, stepping back a bit. He ran a rough hand through his shock of fine blond hair. “I know what he is, Raven.” He looked down, closed his eyes to take a deep breath, and then looked up again. “While you were gone, I found out. Drake is the son of Asmodeus.”

Raven looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face. And then she blinked. “I know.”

Loki wasn’t surprised by this statement. His sister and the bounty hunter had shared something powerful during the battle with Cruor. Loki knew his sister. She wasn’t stupid. She was stubborn and sometimes she was naïve, but she had the Chosen Soul inside of her, and that soul most likely recognized a soul as powerful as Drake of Tanith’s.

“I imagine you’re not going to let this drop,” he said. “The ork was right.”

“What ork?”

“Drake’s friend, goes by the name of Grolsch. He came looking for me yesterday. He’s out hunting at the moment but will return at night fall. He wanted to help get you out of Eidolon in the hopes that you would in turn help him get Tanith out of the Witherlands.”

“I don’t know how he thought I would be able to help,” Raven said, shrugging. “But I’m sure there is more power in numbers.”

“Alright,” Loki breathed. “We can talk about it. But first, I have to ask. Will the prince be coming after you again?” Lord Astriel was notorious amongst the humans of Trimontium. They adored him and they were terrified of him. He always got what he wanted – and it was quite clear that he wanted Raven. Yet, here she was, standing in front of Loki. It boded ill.

Raven looked bewildered. “I honestly don’t know,” she said. Her voice sounded thin, perhaps tired. “But we shouldn’t wait around to find out. And one sure way to escape the elf prince is to go to the one place he probably wouldn’t follow us.”

“The Witherlands,” finished Loki.
Fine,
he thought. He honestly had no plans and no idea of what else to do anyway. “Very well. The first thing we need to do is find someone who can open a portal.”

Raven looked up. “Can’t you do it? Or you and some of the other priests?” She looked clearly confused.

Loki ran a nervous and frustrated hand through his hair. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s not something Haledon’s acolytes are good at doing.” And he wasn’t sure that even if they were, he would succeed if he tried. He had a strange feeling inside; as if he’d been abandoned. “But remember those stories father told us when we were little? About the people who walked through worlds?”

His memory of the stories was vague, but now that he recalled even the little that he did, he couldn’t help but wonder whether his father, who had traveled far and wide as a bard, might have been talking about portals to other realms. It was a place to start.

“I do,” Raven said. “It’s a place to start,” she told him, echoing his own thoughts.

Loki looked at his sister, noting the worried tightness to the way she held her lips. Aster Hollow wasn’t going to welcome them back with open arms. They’d inadvertently caused the deaths of several of their own and then escaped from Aster Hollow’s prison. If they returned to their home, they were going to have to do so under the cover of darkness and cloaked in quiet.

“Grolsch might be able to help,” Loki suggested. The ork had been with Tanith for a long time; as the man had said, he’d surely picked up a skill or two.

Raven considered it in silence and nodded. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

*****

“What you’ve done is inexcusable.” Oberon’s deep voice filled the ancient, vast marble chamber despite his relatively quiet tone. His expression was outwardly calm. But Astriel could see the danger in his father’s eyes. They mirrored his own.

Zeta stood before the steps of Oberon’s throne, her chin defiantly raised, her eyes just as defiantly narrowed. She said nothing, but Astriel could feel his sister bristling. Her power crackled with static, unspent and unsettled.

But it was nothing compared to what his own power was doing in that moment. The windows of the massive thrown room had already been magically replaced once. The pulses of Astriel’s anger were shattering, and he was having a very hard time keeping them under control. The flames in his father’s enormous marble fireplace had gone black and the air was thick with the feel of unborn lightning.

“I demand that you tell us where you have sent her, Zeta. I know you are shielding her location on the Terran realm. Why?” Oberon asked. Astriel was allowing the king to do all of the questioning. He didn’t trust himself to speak in that moment; his silence was dangerous enough.

“She is in no physical danger,” Zeta said. She spoke with a determined and rather icy calm. “And I will not tell you where I have sent her. She made a promise and she will keep it.”

“
You used her,”
Astriel finally said. His words were no more than a whisper, but escaped like verbal venom. The windows rattled in their panes. One cracked through, a wicked sound that split the eerie silence. The black flames leapt, turned red at their tips, and settled down again into an agitated dance.

Zeta winced nervously, glanced at the windows and the fireplace, and turned to face her brother. “What did you expect?” she asked, visibly steeling her nerves. “She’s the daughter of Malphas and she was in Eidolon for
thirty
moons
.” She raised her chin, her blue eyes flashing. The fear was still there, but there was a healthy dose of righteous defiance as well. “Untapped potential is putting it mildly, big brother. I’m a member of the elven court. I haven’t been trained to sit back and ignore that kind of strategic advantage.” She turned to her father. “Have I?”

“I see,” Astriel said, drawing her attention once more. She glanced at him, and her sea blue eyes widened. Astriel could feel that his own eyes were glowing. They were hot in his face, and his vision had shifted. “You know she will one day become queen,” he said. “And you think she’s going to help you do the same.”

Zeta hesitated, her lips parting a little more, and then closing again. Finally, she turned to fully face him and lifted her chin a touch higher. “What of it?” she asked icily. “It’s better than doing what
you
were doing, Astriel, which is to say
nothing
. For the past thirty days, you’ve stood idly by and pathetically hoped against hope that she would choose you over the bounty hunter.” She laughed harshly, the sound filling the chamber’s air with a nearly palpable static. “
Not
likely
,” she hissed nastily. “And what’s more, you’ve no business wedding her anyway.” Her eyes shot daggers now, narrowed into cold blue slits. “She is an
Abaddonian
. She’s not one of us, and she never will be-”

“That’s
enough
.” Oberon’s command echoed off of the throne room walls. Zeta stuttered to silence, blinked rapidly, and turned to face her father. Astriel merely watched her. He’d felt himself grow colder, harder, and more silent as she’d spoken. The wheels in his head were spinning like mad, the flames in the hearth were tinged with a thoughtful blue, and it felt as if the world had stopped in its tracks to watch.

Just now, revelations had been made. Zeta’s words were a yank on a curtain cord, and Astriel had a view of the broader picture now. Raven’s escape angered Astriel in a way little else ever had. But there were more urgent matters to attend to. Bigger problems. And one of them had been right in front of Astriel for thousands of years.

Astriel barely heard his father’s next words.

“Zeta, you have crossed a line.” Oberon stood slowly and magnificently. The antlers on his head cast bizarre shadows on the walls. He turned to his son. “You may name the punishment,” he told him stonily. “Within reason.”

Astriel continued to stare through Zeta. He only partly saw the sister he’d known and cared about for century after century. There was another woman there now – a woman who had officially made plain her desire for the throne.

He waited several long beats before replying, allowing the silence to stretch until Zeta’s edging nervousness was palpable. “No punishment,” he finally said softly. And then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, “There is no need.”

Both Oberon and Zeta were surprised enough by this that they remained silent. Zeta’s eyes widened a bit more, and then narrowed suspiciously. Astriel took a deep breath and felt his eyes return to normal. The air around them lightened, becoming more breathable.

Astriel turned to the side, his gaze on the marble floor as he clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace away. He took the steps down from the dais one at a time and his boot falls echoed through the chamber. “Father, if you’ll permit a change of subject, I would give some consideration to what happened a month ago when the Chosen Soul destroyed the Death Mage,” he said as he slowly made his way toward the double doors that were the exit to the throne room. Silence followed him.

Once he was at the exit, the guards who waited on the outside of the room and had clearly heard his approach, opened the doors for him. He stopped and turned to face his father and sister one last time. Both stared at him, completely nonplussed. “There is a space to fill now amongst the gods,” he continued, allowing double meaning to heavily lace each and every one of his words.

And then, seeing the sudden spark of understanding in his father’s eyes that he was looking for and, satisfied that he’d sown the seed he’d intended, prince Astriel turned and left the throne room.