“I heard you the first time,” Drake said calmly, maintaining his tight grip. His voice had amplified, deepening into the infernal state that matched his present state of body and mind. Inwardly, he swore. The shielding spell he had placed over Raven’s location earlier must have worn off. This was not going at all as planned.
He had never considered that Raven would do something as unpredictable – as utterly insane – as sink her fangs into his wrist. The moment she’d taken her first swallow of his blood, the desire he’d felt for her since he’d first laid eyes upon her in Astriel’s viewing pool multiplied a thousand-fold and his monster was awakened.
He wanted her then, in that moment, as he had never wanted anything before in his life, and that included the time he’d been trapped in the Sand Swallow Desert without water for two weeks. He could be back there now, and given a choice between a wet drink and Raven Grey, he would choose the latter.
But the presence of the third Abaddonian at his back had sufficiently re-focused enough of his attention that he was able to admit his disadvantage. Kissing his quarry had been a mistake in and of itself. And now it might very well throw his entire plan to Hell.
Slowly, he straightened, pulling back from Raven to take hold of one of her arms, just above the wrist.
As he’d expected, Raven steadied herself a little, seemed to come to her senses, and then 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?” Drake asked, a slight taunt to his tone. His teeth were slowly receding, his skin lightening.
Adonides’ 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’s gaze cut to him and the bounty hunter groaned inwardly. Fantastic timing as usual.
Grolsch stumbled out into the clearing, looked from Drake to Raven to Adonides, and his large brown 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.
In a sudden explosion of movement, Grolsch lifted the bow and aimed at Adonides, releasing the arrow into the air. At the same time, Adonides leapt and beat his wings, rising several feet off of the ground. Drake shoved Raven to the 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 diving 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. 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 rushing toward them. He had no further time to watch or ponder, though, as Adonides slammed into him, knocking him backward.
Immediately, Drake’s fingers circled Adonides’ 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.
They stopped rolling, Adonides sitting on his waist, and Drake had to use both hands to keep the devil from plunging the deadly arrow downward. They remained nearly motionless, each fighting against the strength of the other.
And then Grolsch was coming forward, his giant two-handed sword having been pulled from the scabbard on his back. He cried a battle cry and swung the sword down toward Adonides’s sitting figure.
The devil instantly let the tension in his arms release and fell to the side, his fingers still wrapped tightly around the arrow shaft, and Drake’s fingers still wrapped tightly around his wrists.
Grolsch’s massive sword missed him by inches and continued in its path toward Drake’s prone body. Drake’s eyes widened, but he could go nowhere and when Grolsch brought the weapon up short a mere hair’s breadth from his nose, Drake pinned his friend with a death glare, his silvery gaze filled with unspoken promise.
Grolsch blanched a light green pallor and backpedaled, raising the sword once again. Drake released Adonides and rolled in the other direction, clearing a space between himself and Grolsch’s target. Adonides leapt to his feet and backed up. Grolsch followed him, his brown eyes narrowed, his tusk-filled mouth drawn into a crazed grin.
Drake glanced in Raven’s direction.
She had changed again, her black wings, dark skin, and white hair declaring her the Princess of Caina that she was. She stood beneath the protective branches of a nearby tree and her eyes were shut tight in deep concentration. She was preparing to cast a spell.
He was impressed. And a little nervous.
If she took Adonides’s side right now, there was a good chance his plan would fail. She was proving to be a difficult catch, and well worth every gold piece the prince had laid out as her bounty.
However, her defiance right now was a distraction he did not need. He couldn’t blame her for trying everything she could to get away. She was convinced he was going to turn her over to a man who lived under the same roof as her mortal enemy. She was sure that if the prince didn’t kill her, Gray Beard – Cruor – would. It was unfortunate that his first meeting with her had to be made under such false pretenses.
But it did, nonetheless.
He glanced once at his friend. Grolsch was busy swinging wildly at Adonides, who, for his part, ducked and dodged with agile ease. The deadly arrow was still clutched tightly in his fist. Drake made a choice and lunged toward Raven.
As if she knew he was there, her head snapped up and her eyes flew open.
Drake skidded to a halt a foot away. Her eyes were tri-colored, like her father’s; silver, blue and gold. On her, it was one of the most striking things he had ever seen. Her sharp fangs threatened from behind her parted lips, reminding him of how they’d felt embedded in his flesh. The recollection made him instantly hard.
She was definitely a distraction he did not need.
She leveled him with that beautiful, inhuman gaze and bared those sharp teeth.
“Get away from me, Tanith,” she warned. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Her voice had lowered several octaves, taking on a deep, seductive tone. But it was laced with an ominous rumble that reminded him of her father. Malphas would be proud.
Across the clearing, Grolsch eyed the winged devil before him with gleeful malice. “Hold still, you giant gnat, so I can squish you proper-like!” He growled as he brought his sword down in another wide ark. This time, the tip managed to catch Adonides on the calf of his left leg as the dark-skinned devil was leaping over the weapon, using his wings as leverage.
Adonides hissed in pain and whirled in the air, coming about to land on the opposite side of the ork. Grolsch spun around to face him, but not before the devil began to cast a spell. His free hand moved in the air in a complex but blurringly fast series of practiced movements and then he disappeared.
Grolsch’s eyes widened in out-right fear. He spun around, searching the clearing for the missing fiend. A few yards away, Drake stood opposite a female devil who vaguely resembled the Raven woman he had been sent there to capture from Drake. The scene confused the Hell out of him; where was the woman? If she was actually the devil, then Drake had been holding out on him and had some explaining to do.
However, now was not the time. Grolsch called out to his friend. “Tanith, watch your back!”
Drake glanced in his direction.
But it was too late. In that instant, Adonides appeared beside him, the arrow poised purposefully above Drake’s heart.
Drake’s hands came up with lightning speed, but again, too late. Adonides plunged the arrow downward, through the bounty hunter’s black leather armor, and into his chest.
Raven gasped and lunged toward Drake, her spell at once forgotten.
Grolsch bellowed in anger and rushed forward as well.
Adonides viciously withdrew the arrow, drawing a grunt of horrible pain from the bounty hunter, and Drake fell to his knees. In the next instant, Adonides was grabbing Raven by the upper arm and swinging her away from Tanith.
Grolsch watched as the female struggled in the devil’s grip and, though the scene made no sense, he had no time to ponder it further. His friend was down. The arrow had struck true.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
Just as he reached his fallen companion, the pair of devils disappeared in a cloud of steam and blue-white light. Grolsch knelt beside Drake and caught him as he fell forward and would have hit the ground face-first.
“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 lowered him gently to the ground and then 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 and Drake parted them, his eyes closed, his face drained of color.
But the glass shattered between his clutched fingers and the potion evaporated before Drake could imbibe of it.
“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 several stallions, all of them white.
Grolsch hadn’t heard anything approach. The elves were quiet that way. Even their damned mounts made no sounds.
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.
Drake raised his head, just high enough to catch sight of the contingent of elves. His silver eyes flashed. “Great…” he muttered just before slipping into unconsciousness.
Grolsch’s greenish pallor paled visibly. He gently lowered Drake to the ground and 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. The ork 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 Tanith. His blue eyes sparked with untold emotion. He knelt beside Drake and slowly moved one gloved hand, palm down, over the wound in the bounty hunter’s chest.
“He’s alive. Take him.”
He stood and two elves came forward to lift 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.
Astriel strode to his steed and ran his hand lovingly, gently over the horse’s long shimmering mane. The horse nodded its large head, nudging 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. In the interim, she’d somehow managed to switch back into her smaller, human form.
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. Raven’s head snapped back and forth and she stopped fighting. Her skin was pale, her eyes very large in her comely face. Her full, red lips were quivering.
“What has gotten into you?” he hissed.
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 – much less, allow him to kiss you?” He appeared not only angry, but disgusted. He had not released her. She swallowed and tried 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?”
She gritted her teeth then and used all of her strength yank her body away from him. He finally let her go. “Yes!” she answered, her teeth bared. “Yes, I know!” she continued as she turned away from him, looking at the ground. “Tanith told me everything.” She hugged herself, feeling unaccountably cold.
“I can smell his blood on you,” Adonides accused softly.
“What of it,” she whispered.
He didn’t answer. He circled around her and gazed down at her.
She refused to look up at him.
Adonides took a deep breath and sighed. He held the arrow that he still carried out in front of him, low enough that she could see it. Drake’s blood still stained its wicked tip. “Do you see the symbol on the point?” he asked. He paused, allowing her eyes to find the etched markings. “This arrow is meant to kill our kind, your highness. You, me. Abaddonians.”
There was a moment of silence and stillness. He continued. “The ork was obviously a friend of the Bounty Hunter’s, and this was in his possession. He sure as hell wasn’t counting on me showing up, and if he’d meant to kill you, he would have done so while Tanith and I were fighting. Which meant he was going to use it on his friend. The set up was staged.”
He fell silent and waited for comprehension to set in. He knew when it had because she looked up, eyes wide with understanding.
Adonides nodded slowly.
“He wasn’t going to turn me in,” she whispered. “He was… he was going to let the ork take me from him and then tell the prince that he’d been attacked… with this arrow.”
Adonides was impressed with how quickly she was figuring it out. Her face at once reflected both relief and renewed worry. Adonides ignored the worry; it troubled him to no end that she should feel such a thing for the bounty hunter. He could only assume that the impassioned embrace he had found them in when he’d appeared in the field was Tanith’s doing. Some sort of magic.
That was what Adonides believed because the alternative was too dangerous. Not only for Raven, but for himself should Malphas learn of it.
“An untruth is far more believable when accompanied by a grave wound.” Adonides finished the line of reasoning. “Tanith has not told you everything, after all. In fact, I suspect he told you next to nothing about himself. Am I right?”
She didn’t answer. He hadn’t expected her to. She’d seen his fangs and darkened skin just Adonides had. She was well aware that Tanith was not human.
“The Bounty Hunter is more than he appears to be. At the very least, he is one of us,” he said. “An Abaddonian.”
She remained silent but he could tell her thoughts were spinning. He would give just about anything at that moment to be able to hear them. But it was not something he was capable of doing with her. He knew because he’d already tried. She could call out to him in her mind, but he could not communicate with her in the same respect.
Raven bit her lip and then pulled her gaze away from his once again. “What does it matter? He’s probably dying right now anyhow. I’m sure that makes you happy.”
Adonides’s gaze narrowed. There was not much he could think of at that moment that would please him more than knowing Drake of Tanith was dead. His body tensed. “We have a history, I admit. But it is unimportant.” He moved away from her then, needing to put space between them. As he did so, he hurriedly erected a shielding spell over their location, knowing it would not be long before someone else began searching for his young charge.
When the shield was up, he felt the first pang of his weakening hunger, a hiccup-like lapse in his power, and knew that the spell would not last long unless he soon fed.
Which made Raven’s nearness all the more unbearable.
Adonides forcefully pushed certain thoughts from his mind and reached into the pocket beneath his black shirt to pull out the Ring of Halcyon. Then he gazed down at the arrow in his other hand. He took a deep breath, spoke the magic word, and the arrowhead began to heat up.
He gritted his teeth and gave it a pull. It burned his skin, but he held tight. With a strange snapping sound, the tip came away from the shaft, and the markings upon the wood disappeared. The arrowhead cooled and the scorch marks on his fingers vanished. He placed the arrowhead into the pocket from which he’d pulled the ring.
Then he turned to face Raven. “Give me your hand.”
She looked up at him. “Why?”
“I have something for you. A gift from your father.”
Raven seemed to consider that for a moment. “What kind of gift?”
“Honestly, Raven, do you really think your father would go to all the trouble of stealing your soul, placing it into your body, ensuring your healthy birth and saving your life just to bring you harm now?”
Raven blushed. She pursed her lips, sighed, and then held out her right hand. He gently took it in his. As she watched, he slowly slipped the shining black ring on her middle finger.
She gasped as its magic at once raced through her. It felt like mild streams of lightning criss-crossing over her skin, up her arm and across her chest to cascade in unseen showers of heat down her body. It was not an unpleasant sensation, and in fact felt vaguely liberating.
She gazed down at the ring on her finger as it began to pulse, a blue-black light that grew and dimmed in time with her heartbeat.
“What is it?” she asked him, her voice softened by awe.
“A Ring of Halcyon.”
*****
“Well?” Loki asked impatiently.
“We had her location for a few seconds, but it’s been shielded again. I have little doubt whoever cast the second spell is moving her.”
Loki ran a hand through his red-blonde hair. He was becoming more frustrated and more worried than he’d ever been in his entire life. “Where was she?”
“At Mandarin Pond.”
“Loki turned away from the three acolytes surrounding the viewing pool and looked out over the crowd of two-dozen priests from across Kriver who had gathered, through the use of transportation magic, in the small, somewhat crowded temple.
They looked up at him expectantly. Both men and women stood before him, their robes and vestments traded for leather and studded armor, their books and healing tinctures put down so that they may carry weapons. Some held axes, others had heavy maces hanging from their leather belts. The women carried either bows and quivers or long, light swords across their backs.
Upon learning that he was Haledon’s Champion, Loki had requested that Maelix perform a very ancient, very difficult ritual that allowed a communion with Haledon. Because the gods were not allowed to interfere in the lives of mortals, such a communion had to be carried out very carefully and must follow a few very strict rules.
The information gleaned from the communication could contain nothing that could not already be learned somehow by mortals on the Terran Realm. Haledon would not, in any way, hint at what may transpire in the future. He could only guide the communing priest to the knowledge that he needed in order to make happen the things that needed to happen. By this right, the communion could be likened to reading a very informative book. Very quickly.
“Everyone, you have your instructions. You know where to go and what to do.” Loki addressed them in a soft voice that still carried easily across the rapt, silent gathering. “Cruor has returned. He is searching for the Chosen Soul, and if he finds her and kills her, all life as we know it will end. We know that Cruor is Gray Beard, the Blue Robe master mage at Eidolon. And we know that he has been leading the Omega Order for more than a thousand years.
“Fortunately, we have among us a former… informative… who can give us the Omega Order’s location.” He nodded at a small, colorfully-dressed man in the crowd, and Jax Narrium nodded back.
The retired thief had come to the temple that afternoon, knowing, as it was his job to know many things, that Cruor had returned. It seemed he had cultivated enough wealth that he was in no hurry to have anyone turn into a god and freeze everyone to death, so he’d come to offer assistance.
Loki wasn’t sure whether Raven would have forgiven the greedy man for telling the elf prince of her existence in Trimontium a week ago, but it didn’t matter. The thief had told Loki what he needed to know about the Omega Order. At the moment, Loki could not afford to be choosy about his sources.
“We will find Cruor there.” Loki took a deep breath. “Hopefully, that’s where we’ll find the Chosen Soul as well.”
The crowd seemed to simultaneously nod. “The majority of you have volunteered to head to its location straight away.” He paused, looking into their eyes one at a time. “This will be very dangerous. Make no mistake; Cruor may know of your arrival from the start. I would ask that you stay out of sight and wait for me to join you.”
Several of the men in the crowd chuckled at that, offering their leader helpless smiles that said they would most likely do no such thing.
“But I know you must do what you feel is right,” Loki added softly.
The men and women in the crowd nodded emphatically.
Loki turned to Maelix and two other men who had been waiting off to the side. He nodded at them. “You three will come with me to Mandarin Pond.”
*****
Drake’s body hurt. It burned, it ached, the muscles were stretched taut and on fire. His head swam and his eyelids were very heavy, but he forced them open and then tried not to retch as the blurry world spun before his eyes.
He snapped them shut again and groaned low in his throat. Even through the haze of pain, he knew that he wasn’t alone. He could feel the elf there, close by, sense his power and the heat of his barely checked fury like roiling waves of sinister magic, rushing over Drake’s fevered skin, almost hotter than the poison that already burned through his veins.
“Comfortable?”
Drake would have laughed, had he been able to find enough breath. His arms and legs were pulled to their limits, clamped down with manacles of pure silver, heavy and cold. They’d already begun to bite into his skin. The arrow had done its damage, its evil magic coursing through his body like a toxic venom, eating him up from the core of what he was.
There had been times in his long life when he’d been less comfortable than he was now. But not many.
Again, slowly and gingerly, he opened his eyes. His surroundings gradually cleared.
Astriel stood several feet away. He was alone and unarmed. He was leaning casually against a rack of weapons. No… not weapons, he realized. Tools. Sharp and twisted.
Drake closed his eyes again, not at all looking forward to what was sure to come.
“Where is she?” the elf asked. His tone was calm, utterly belying the rage Drake knew lie just beneath the surface.
“I honestly don’t know,” Drake replied, impressed that he’d been able to string several coherent words together in his current state. He tried a few more. “Why don’t you cast a spell?” He coughed then, and tasted blood.
Astriel pushed off of the rack of torture devices and sighed. “Don’t think I haven’t tried.” The elf turned to look over his shoulder at the myriad of morbid implements laid out on the shelf behind him.
“Standard procedure when we need information from a mortal would be to leave the individual alone with the Blue Robes for a few hours until the knowledge was obtained,” he said as he perused the instruments. “However, seeing as how you’re neither mortal nor subject to elven magic….” His voice trailed away.
This time, Drake did laugh. It sent him into a coughing fit that left him barely able to breathe. Blood had coated his lips and splattered the floor in front of him. He could feel Astriel watching him intently.
“I would like only one thing more than to run you through and be done with you right here and now, Tanith,” Astriel said, his boots echoing on the blood-stained floor as he slowly moved to stand directly in front of the bounty hunter. “You’re lucky I want it badly enough to let you live.”
Drake couldn’t blame him. He wanted her that badly too.
“Where is she?” Astriel asked again.
“I told you,” Drake said, the arrow’s vicious magic filling him with more and more exhaustion and pain. “I don’t know. Adonides took her. Cruor will probably find her next.”
“What makes you so sure?” Astriel asked.
Drake tried not to smile as he said, “Because he’s right under your nose, with access to the Blue Robes, who would cast anything he wanted them to and then give up their souls for his power.”
He began to cough again and this time, his mouth filled with blood by the time he was finished. He closed his eyes against the harsh, sharp pain that suddenly gripped his chest hard and fast. He felt as if his lungs were being squeezed in an iron-clawed fist. His heart did an uncomfortable dance and faltered before starting back up again at a quickened pace.
The prince was quiet.
Drake knew that he was dying. Adonides had managed to get close enough, deep enough, with the arrow that its magic would soon stop his heart. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wondered what his father would do when he learned that his only son was dead. Drake almost smiled at the thought of depriving him of his precious heir.
And then he felt his heart skip. Once, twice. In his mind’s eye, he pictured Raven. Her large, dark eyes, her smooth, fair skin… A third time… Her full lips and the taste and color of strawberries… Four…
The beating slowed and Drake’s extremities went numb.
And then he felt something on his lips. Cool, like glass.
It was glass. He parted his lips and something slid past them, over his tongue. It tingled and soothed. He swallowed.
His heart jumped in his chest, beating with sudden, agonizing ferocity. His back arched against the pain. His stomach began to warm, and then to burn like fire. The fire spread from his midsection outward, tracing trails of scorching torture through his veins, across muscle and bone, to the tips of his fingers and toes. He cried out as ancient magic warred with ancient magic within him.
Lights exploded before his eyes and he fought against his restraints as the healing magic he’d just consumed began to win and his body became more awake, more aware of the damage the arrow had caused.
Little by little, second by agonizing second, the arrow’s power ebbed, receding from his body as it lost the battle for his life. Eventually, Drake relaxed against his restraints, his body covered in sweat, his breathing ragged.
He was not going to die.
“No, Tanith. It seems you’ll live.”
Drake opened his eyes and gazed down at Astriel as the prince set the now empty potion container on the table beside him. He looked up at Drake. Molten silver met ice blue and held.
“Now then,” the prince continued. “You were saying?”