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

militiamen charged Ronan at speeds rivaling a battle knight.
    Black goo splattered Rika’s spirit shield. She charged the old woman baring glistening white fangs.
    The sticky black resin clung to the spirit shield and oozed downward like slow-flow lava. Rika’s shield dimmed as the black ooze spread outward hissing and bubbling. Jet-black smoke curled from the tar sending a bitter stench drifting through the village square.
    The old woman showed no sign of fear or hesitation as Rika lunged.
    Rika’s razor sharp white teeth sunk into the woman’s neck while her two-ton body slammed into the woman’s rib cage.
    The old woman crumpled into a motionless heap. Rika released her neck, letting the woman’s head bounce off the ground like an overripe pumpkin. She stood atop the dead woman with her two forepaws pressed into the woman’s sunken chest.
    The first dead Meranthian militiaman closed within a half-dozen feet from Ronan his sword raised high.
    Ronan released his coiled spirit attack launching it toward the dead soldier’s head.
    Blue spirit energy crashed into the black mist surrounding the soldier. It slowed before slamming into and dissolving the soldier’s head.
    A second Meranthian soldier reached Ronan and swung his sword with a battle knight’s speed. It struck Ronan’s spirit shield sending blue energy rippling across Ronan’s backside.
    Ronan whirled swinging his sword like a bright red scythe of death. His blade moved at inhuman speed before it split through the soldier’s dark shield scattering the mist.
    The sheba blade didn’t stop until it caught the soldier’s rotting flesh near his shoulder. The soldier’s arm lopped off falling into the snow with blackened fingertips still twitching.
    The third soldier extended his hand toward Ronan. Dangling from his index finger, black liquid bubbled and stretched toward Ronan’s spirit shield. Without emotion, the dead man released the dark bubble as Rika plowed into his lower back.
    A loud, sickening crack, split the air as the dead soldier’s spine snapped twisting his body in a way Elan never intended. The dead soldier collapsed and fell face first into the snow covered ground.
    Ronan whirled and found General Demos, Tara, and the crossbowmen missing.
    The black rings surrounding Devery, Jeremy, and the guardians faded.
    Ronan crossed the square moving toward his friends.
    Rika bounded across the square reaching Ronan’s side as he stopped before Devery and Jeremy.
    Ronan reached his hand forward, touching the black mist, and a feeling of hopeless dread overtook him. A sickening revulsion filled his stomach, and he wanted to curl up and die.
    Rika switched into human form and pushed Ronan away as the black mist faded into nothing. “Don’t touch it Ronan!”
    Ronan sank to his knees, pulling in short, hard breaths as the dread feeling passed. He’d never experienced an emotion that strong in his life. Even his mother’s death hadn’t conjured such strong emotion. “Rika, gather Montgomery from the harbor office,” he said his voice husky. “Sir Alcott will want to take a look at him.”
    Rika stared-wide eyed at the village square and gasped. “Look!”
    The village square stood empty. The three dead soldiers had vanished severed limbs and all while the snowy ground left no traces of the old woman’s broken body. Two charred crossbow bolts curled smoke into the snowy afternoon air. The lone evidence the day’s events had actually occurred.
    ***
    Frozen, salt-laced wind gusted inland from the Araxis Sea.
    Tara closed her eyes and inhaled, filling her lungs with the frigid air’s calming relief. She’d come within a hair’s breadth of dooming an entire race. For centuries, she’d ruled without opposition. She couldn’t allow such carelessness again.
    Soul knights and their forest counterparts swarmed Porthleven hundreds of feet below. They wouldn’t find anything. She’d made sure of that.
    Tara opened her eyes and exhaled. She focused