Queen of Abaddon

by Heather Killough-Walden

  “No!” Raven’s tired body made her decisions for her just then. She was no longer interested in holding back, no longer in the mood to “try” to be normal or “pretend” to be ordinary or even to “hide” who she really was from prying eyes. All she wanted to do was save her brother.

  The change came over her like a tidal wave that had been waiting at the edge of a reef. It washed clean and hard, and within split seconds, it was done. Raven Grey was a slender woman, tall for her gender, but not overly so. She was slight of bone and fair and mysterious, with skin like porcelain and hair like a crow’s wings.

  Winter, on the other hand, was a good deal taller, possessed skin the ametrine colors of twilight, sported hair like long, spun snow, claws of cold iron, and tri-hued eyes whose irises ringed from ice blue to honey gold and glowed with all the magic befitting an Abaddonian princess.

  But most impressive of all was the massive pair of functional wings that sprouted from Winter’s back, each as long as she was tall and covered in the silken, downy magnificence of thousands of thick, raven-black feathers.

  When Raven felt these wings unfold and unfurl, she closed her eyes and ran her tongue over her teeth.

  Divine, she thought recklessly as she felt the sharp tips of her elongated fangs. A delicious shiver swelled through her. There was no sensation quite like surrendering to the change. It was a kind of rapture, and it made her blood hum.

  “Oh gods… Raven… what have you….”

  Winter opened her beautiful eyes, and the cave came into perfect focus. Everything that had been cast in shades of gray moments earlier was now presented in stark lines of contrast, beautifully outlined as if it were full daylight underground.

  The shafts of sunlight that spilled through the ceiling were unnaturally bright, acting as beams of radiance that gave everything an otherworldly glow.

  Several feet away, Direan had obviously assumed he was finished with Loki and was focused on Grolsch. But the ork was proving a more difficult target than the young priest had. Raven saw Grolsch’s axe glow in a shaft of sunlight – Haledon’s axe, she thought – as it swung in a downward arc, and Direan blurred to the side, ducking to avoid its wicked blade.

  Beside her, Loki fell to his knees, his hands clutching his side, his face contorted into a mask of fear and pain. His eyes were locked on hers, however, as if what she’d just done was far more dire that what Direan had done to him.

  Fool, she thought. She knew the thorn’s wound would soon kill him.

  “Heal yourself.” Her voice rang out pure and strong, echoing around them like a force unto itself.

  Loki’s eyes widened, then glazed over, and the lines in his face relaxed, hypnotized. A moment later, a warm yellow glow of healing light emanated from beneath the hands pressed to his side. He was healing himself, as instructed.

  She had wondered whether he was still able to do that. Now she knew.

  Then she spun, and though her own speed and strength were diminished by the blood loss she’d suffered, she was far faster in this form than she had been as a human. Her arms raised, and the magic her body had been wanting to cast since her return to the terran realm was at last released.

  It pulsed briefly through her palms and shot across the cave in several thick, crackling streams of icy electricity. She didn’t aim for Direan. Instead, she directed the magic beams to the ceiling, amidst the multitude of tiny holes that allowed in their thin rays of light.

  The cold energy struck the stone and exploded. Out of instinct to protect her brother, she yelled, “Get down!” As before, her voice carried forth strong and commanding. Before she covered her own face, she saw Loki duck beneath the cushioned bench they’d been sitting on.

  Rocks of all shapes and sizes rained down on them, some bruising, others scraping, the larger ones missing them out of sheer fortune. Following on the coattails of the rain of stones was the power of the noon day sun, terribly bright and painfully strong.

  It spilled through the new opening, casting all below it into shocking illumination. A hissing sound started up all around them. Raven lowered her arms and turned to look as a man’s moan became a groan and then a roar of pain.

  Direan had moved away from Grolsch and was scrambling for some kind of cover, attempting for all he was worth to escape the sunlight. It had been a hunch that she’d acted on that sunlight was caustic to him. Her hunch was confirmed.

  That’s why he pulled on the gloves, she thought as he slammed against a far wall and crouched low in a small shadowy space provided by a stone outcropping. It hadn’t been to avoid the rose’s thorns, but to avoid the shaft of light the rose was blooming in.

  The hissing coming from all around them must have been coming from the shadows in their squid-like forms. As she peered into the small spaces of darkness remaining in the new light, she could see those shadows moving. They slithered in either fear or pain, perhaps both.

  Earlier, when they had attacked Raven and her party, they’d also caused Raven to feel dizzy and light-headed. There was none of that sensation now. Either she was safer as Winter, or the sunlight kept their power at bay.

  It didn’t matter, though. For now, they were out of the way. And whatever creature Direan was, whatever the reason behind him knowing her real name, and whatever his intent had been with them, at the moment he was neutralized too.

  That was enough.

  Something green caught her eye, and she looked down. A foot from her right boot lay the rose stem that he’d used to both heal her and harm her brother. It was still magically fashioned into a dagger, despite being dropped by its wielder. Whatever spell had transformed it seemed to be holding fast.

  Upon the handle of the blade was the bass relief of a blooming rose. Raven bent and picked up the dagger. Then, for some reason, she tucked it into her belt.

  “Raven, we have to get out of here!” Loki was up and beside her, his hands poised as if he wanted to grab hold of her arms, but paused half-way as if he was afraid of actually touching her.

  Winter pushed aside her irritation at the fear and revulsion he obviously still had for her Abaddonian form, and pulled the map from the arrow quiver that remained strapped to her back, despite her enormous wings. That was magic for you.

  “Unroll that scroll!” Grolsch growled, striding toward them from across the cavern, the axe still in his tight grip. As he moved, he stayed in the light, smart enough to surround himself with its protection. “We’d best be moving!”

  She couldn’t have echoed the sentiment any better, so she just remained silent and unfurled the map as quickly as she could. Loki grasped one corner, and Grolsch skidded to a halt beside them to grab hold of nearly an entire third of the map on the other side.

  Raven’s iron claws were still out, and one pierced the map’s fabric. But fortunately, the magic worked anyway. The cave around them began to blur. The colors melted, and the hissing of the shadow squid grew distant. The map was working.

  However, before the portal opening in the cave closed behind them, Raven’s gut clenched. Heat warped through her. Her heart skipped a beat and her chest and cheeks flushed. A humming, buzzing sensation worked its fast way through her body, heating her to her core.

  She recognized the sensation all too well. It was the way she felt every time she dreamed about or came close to –

  She looked back through the opening to see a second portal explode to life on the other side of the cavern. It was red with heat and fire and coursed through with dark ruby lightning. It whirled to life, growing to full size in split seconds, then parted with the sound of thunder.

  From its center stepped a tall, dark figure of devastating, insurmountable beauty and power.

  Their eyes met.

  Time skipped, the edges of the universe pulled separately at her soul.

  And then the Hunter’s Map sucked her into its dimensional hallway, and the back of the portal closed once and for all, leaving her heart to break a second time.

  Chapter Twenty


  She didn’t bother trying to catch herself when the portal ejected her into its destination this time. She wanted to hit the ground hard. She wanted it to hurt. Maybe it would even things out to feel as much pain on the outside as she felt on the inside.

  Fortunately for her, she’d changed back into her mortal form while in the portal. The alarm of seeing him again shocked her out of her Abaddonian form and thrust her right back into her weaker body. She’d had no say in the matter, and maybe it was best that way.

  For when she hit the ground, there were no wings to get caught beneath her and either sprain or break. Instead, she struck what felt like sand and rolled across a relatively soft but grainy ground before coming to a stunned stop several feet away.

  She heard Grolsch and Loki land somewhere nearby, one after the other. Then the portal zapped shut behind them.

  He found me, she thought. That was fast.

  It was a realization filled with too many sentiments to separate and make sense of. Everything from guilt and regret to a dark and positively lethal excitement rushed through her. It felt horrible.

  Raven got her arms beneath her and pushed herself to her knees. As she did, she caught sight of the rose dagger still tucked neatly and safely in the belt of her armor.

  She looked up to take in their surroundings. “Figures,” she said under her breath. Around her stretched a horizon of blue water, spanning as far as the eye could see. Seemingly at the center of this vast reach of ocean rested the single tiny island that she, Loki, and Grolsch now inhabited.

  Along with a single palm tree.

  “I knew it,” she muttered. She knew she’d recognized the terrain type when it had appeared on the map: Vast, featureless reaches and a single tree. “We’re in Immeloria again.”

  “It’s the only place you are safe,” came a familiar voice. It was weaker than normal, however.

  Raven got to her feet just as her brother and Grolsch did. The medallion around Loki’s neck glowed brightly for a moment, followed by a flash. When the light dissipated, Magus stood before them.

  However, where he stood tall before, he now hunched a little, and the normally black hair at his temples had gone gray. His face was drawn and a touch pale, and there was a darkness beneath his eyes. He looked older.

  “You don’t look well,” Raven said.

  Magus shot her an exasperated look. “It’s been a long day.”

  “Magus… have you aged?” Loki asked, genuine concern lacing his words.

  “As I said,” Magus quipped while he made his way to the single tree on the island and turned to lean up against it. “It’s been a long day.”

  “I thought gods couldn’t age.” Raven said.

  “I know I’ve said it before,” replied Magus, “but the gods were all mortal once. And that doesn’t mean that they aren’t still mortal to some degree now.” He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed as if terribly weary. “No one is perfect.”

  “You’re… Magus?”

  Raven looked over at Grolsch, who hadn’t moved since he’d gotten to his feet where he’d fallen several feet away. He had a quizzical expression on his large face, and his heavy brows were drawn together. “The god of magic?”

  “That’s him,” Raven said, nodding at the man who’d appeared out of nowhere. “Though I have to say he usually looks a lot perkier than he does at the moment.”

  Magus shot her a look of warning. “Looks can be deceiving. And speaking of looks, the disguise I gave you and your brother is nearly worthless now, thanks to your stunt back there with the Ei’lor and his Shadar Kin.”

  Raven blinked. “What?”

  Magus rolled his eyes. “The shadow creatures that attacked you are called Shadar Kin. They’re beings of tentacled shadow that feed off mortal blood. The more magic in that blood, the better.”

  “I – I know that part,” Raven said, shaking her head. “The man who attacked us called them that. But what was the other name you used?”

  “The man, Direan, was an Ei’lor, an elf who has been cursed to a life of darkness and longing. His existence is that of unending desire, from which there is no release save one. No amount of food can quench his hunger, no amount of drink his thirst, no pleasant sensation can hold at bay his constant, low lying pain. He is doomed to endless days and nights of misery. Not even suicide will release him. He will simply fail at the attempt. Since elves hold sway over nature and all of its aberrations, this Direan Ei’lor was most likely the Shadar Kin’s leader. They acted on his behalf and in his defense.”

  Raven’s mind swelled with a plethora of questions. “That was why he seemed familiar,” she muttered to herself. He’d once been an elf. Though, she hadn’t seen his ears under his mass of very blonde hair, it was possible they had been pointed.

  “Why would an elf become so cursed?” Grolsch asked.

  “Any manner of reasons, but normally for winding up on the wrong side of elven royalty. I wouldn’t be surprised if it had been Astriel, himself, who cursed young Direan. Or, more likely, his sister. She seems the sort.”

  “Abaddon has no fury like that of an elven princess scorned,” Loki muttered.

  “Under other circumstances, I would agree with you,” said Magus. “However, Hell knows a fury far worse at the moment.”

  Raven changed the subject, steering the conversation back to the battle they’d just left. Not only because she still had questions, but because she would rather talk about anything other than Hell’s new king and his fury. “How did he know who I was?” she asked. “He said my name.”

  “Ei’lor can read surface thoughts. A gift that comes with their curse, and one of the reasons the curse is sparingly used. You must have been weakened by the Shadar Kin’s poison, and you were thinking things you shouldn’t have.”

  A beat passed as they all seemed to consider this. “Why did he bother healing me if he was just planning to kill us all anyway?”

  “Because you,” Magus said, “he was planning on killing slowly. You’ll recall I mentioned the Ei’lor had no release from their misery save one. That would be magical blood. Something you have in generous measure. The Ei’lor can feed off someone like you for a year or more, easing their pain, quenching their thirst, and staving off their hunger with your magic. You were Direan’s winter store, so to speak.”

  Raven shuddered. She had the distinct impression Magus was more than a little upset with her, but the way he’d just put her possible predicament seemed overtly harsh.

  The mage god pushed himself off the tree and ran a hand through his hair. It was a surprisingly human motion for a god to make, and suddenly Raven could see how gods might be mortal, after all.

  “I’ll have to re-disguise you both,” he said wearily. “I’m sure you noticed that nice little portal that opened up in the cave just as you were leaving it.”

  Neither Raven nor Loki said anything. But Raven’s chest felt like it was cracking a little. And Loki’s dark look in her direction told her he knew it.

  “We noticed,” said Grolsch, speaking for everyone.

  Magus looked from him to the brother and sister, and his own expression darkened as well. “Right,” he said, with tired finality. “I can’t tell you how close a call that actually was. Or what it took for you to escape him this time. I am now what you see before you because of what I sacrificed to win you the extra seconds it took for the Hunter’s Map to transport you.” His voice was becoming more hoarse every time he spoke, and the guilt Raven felt earlier was spiking.

  But he wasn’t finished with her yet.

  Now, Magus settled his gaze directly on her, and she felt an unsettling steeliness in its depths that reminded her of his inherent power.

  Here it comes, she thought.

  “You put everyone at risk changing into your Abaddonian form. It’s something you must swear not to do again. Not until you’ve located the Phylactery and put this timeline right.”

  Raven tilted her chin up just a touch and rolled her s
houlders back. It was almost an unconscious gesture, a knee-jerk sort of defensive posture that afforded her just a breath more strength than she had. “I did what I felt I had to do.”

  “No, what you did was the easiest thing to do,” Magus corrected her. “There are other ways to defeat a foe. Find them.” He moved toward Loki, and Loki looked uneasy. Magus lifted the medallion from the young priest’s armor and gazed into it. “You carry the eldest soul in the realms, but you are still so young.”

  Clearly, he was still speaking to Raven.

  “You unwittingly leave a trail of breadcrumbs behind you because you lack the care that age would afford. You don’t fully understand the consequences of your recklessness.” He paused, and in a more quiet tone, he said, “You don’t know what this war has cost us all.”

  Oh, I think I do, her inner voice whispered as her inner mind saw a doll in the mud. But she kept her words unvoiced.

  He dropped the medallion and cut her a sidelong glance. “Lord Darken is the most brutal ruler Abaddon has ever seen. His decrees are un-tempered by any kind of empathy whatsoever. When it comes to matters involving you, he has no remorse and he bids no compromise or mercy. He will go to any lengths to achieve what he desires.”

  He turned fully toward her then, and straightened. “He has even killed a king … because the king couldn’t tell him where his daughter was.”

  There was another flash of light then, before Magus vanished from the spot where he’d been standing, and the crystal on the chain around Loki’s neck momentarily glowed. A second later, the glow dimmed, leaving everyone feeling somewhat stunned.

  For a while, they were quiet. Then Raven, feeling stupid and numb, asked, “Was he… speaking of my father?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The old fool thinks he’s the one who saved her.

  Let him.

  Laughter…. You are too kind, Drake. Even now. But I underestimated you, as well. You’re stronger than I thought. You’ve let her go… twice, now.

  Drake closed his eyes. He was almost certain he was bleeding internally. He’d let Raven slip through his fingers again. He’d struggled with Darken the entire time, but he’d done it… all with the vague hope that she would reach the Phylactery.