Free King Of Souls (Book 2) by Matthew Ballard Page A

Ronan’s shoulder toward the inn.
    Ronan whirled and staggered backward recoiling at the sight before him.
    The dead woman from the inn stood in the village square holding her children’s hands. The dead woman glared, and the little girl pointed at Ronan. “That’s him mommy. That’s the man that tried to steal daddy’s dragon statue.”
    Rika shifted into a great Meranthian grizzly bear, and a low growl rolled from her chest. Fluffy falling snowflakes collected on her coarse black fur as she spun and faced the walking dead.
    An ice-cold sensation numbed a spot near the base of Ronan’s neck, and he stiffened moving his hand to ward off the strange feeling. He spun in time to catch a wide-eyed Tara holding her hand as if burned.
    Tara backed away, her mouth hanging open, staring wide-eyed at Ronan.
    “What did you do to me?” Ronan rubbed the base of his neck and icy cold spread across his palm as it drew near his spirit shield.
    Tara rubbed her trembling hand and crept backward. “Stay away from me!”
    Ronan raised his sword and glared. “What did you do to me?”
    “General Demos! I need you!” A shroud of swirling black mist surrounded Tara as she moved further away from Ronan.
    A low hiss and clattering armor sounded behind Ronan.
    “Rika, don’t take your eyes off her.” Ronan whirled to face the menacing sound closing in behind him.
    A ten foot man-shaped creature towered over Devery, Jeremy and two guardians with them. The creature’s outer skin appeared human-like, but dark shiny scales showed beneath. His nose laid flat against his face while his bald head gave way to a flat angular forehead. The creature's hands looked human with four fingers and an opposable thumb. His eyes glowed golden with black slits for pupils while his long scaly tail twitched in the snow. The creature’s forked tongue flickered from his thin lips as if tasting the air around him. He slid free a sheathed long-sword from his waist and motioned for Tara.
    Two more creatures, a foot shorter than the first, stood to the larger creature’s right. Each held massive crossbows twice the size of those used by Meranthian militia.
    Rings of black mist hung in the air surrounding Devery, Jeremy, and the guardians clustered together in a tight knot. Their facial expressions ranged from stark terror to stunned shock.
    Ashen faced villagers appeared behind the scattered huts and buildings surrounding the village square. An old woman wearing a tattered gray shawl stood near the church entrance. She held a black tar-like substance in her extended palm.
    Wispy shrouds of dark mist hung around a trio of pale-faced soldiers. Each wore a hollow-eyed vacant expression. Their armor marked them as Meranthian militia members during their former lives.
    The scale-faced crossbowmen raised their weapons and trained them on Ronan. With an audible click, they squeezed their triggers. Two steel-tipped crossbow bolts raced across the square towards Ronan’s chest.
    White-hot anger flared behind Ronan’s eyes. He gathered a ball of crackling blue spirit in his left hand and sent a torrent of power flowing through his sheba blade in his right. “You murdered them all!” He directed his rage toward General Demos. “Release my men, or I’ll slaughter you where you stand.”
    Both crossbow bolts slammed into Ronan’s shield. Bluish-white light crackled sending undulating waves of energy rippling over his shield’s surface. The bolts’ steel tips melted like ice over a coal stove. The wooden shafts burst into flame before falling into the snow at Ronan’s feet.
    Ronan reared back his shoulder, preparing to launch his spirit attack. A flicker of fear registered in General Demos’s eyes.
    Tara hurried across the square trailing black mist behind her. She stopped and hid behind General Demos.
    A blood-curdling squeal split the air as the old woman near the church door sent gooey-black tar flying toward Rika.
    With long swords raised, the three dead