Free Drake of Tanith (Chosen Soul) by Heather Killough-Walden

possibly lead Lord Astriel to their door?
    The night grew long as the hours passed, and the trail darkened. The forest thickened, becoming damper and draped in thin, wispy mists. The party slowed as the trail grew more difficult to make out. Finally, it ducked around a corner of trees and became shrouded in nearly absolute darkness by the thick canopy that arched overhead.
    Raven and her companions came to a sudden halt.
    Despite the darkness, it was clear that a tall, broad figure was standing in the center of the thin trail several yards ahead. His form was outlined by the very dim glow of moonlight that made it through the thick foliage, but it was not enough to give Raven and her companions any indication of who the stranger was.
    He was male; that much was clear. From the tips of his boots to the top of his head, he stood nearly six and a half feet tall. He was draped in the color of night; Raven was certain that if he shifted just a little, he would meld into the shadows around him and disappear from view.
    Raven’s physical instincts ran fast. Before she could determine whether the stranger meant them harm, a cold, crackling power began to build and swirl in the palms of her hands. Beside her, Loki had drawn his bow and nocked an arrow. Grolsch, however, remained oddly still.
    Raven glanced at the ork, wondering whether she should be wasting the time. Just as she was deciding to strike first and let loose with everything she had, Grolsch was raising his hand in a signal to wait.
    Raven stopped just short of tossing a deadly, pulsing ball at the figure, when he took a step toward them on the path. In response, she raised her arm again defensively and found herself wanting to step back. At the same time, she poured more magic into her hands and sent tendrils of it all around her in a protective shield.
    Loki sucked in a pain-filled breath and shot his sister a warning glance. Control yourself, his expression told her. Mist formed before his nose and mouth. She was unwittingly surrounding him with the painful freeze of her magic.
    Focus , she told herself. But it had been a month since she’d used her magic at all, and before that, she’d never really had adequate instruction nor the time to practice. “Sorry,” she whispered without taking her eyes off the stranger, who was now advancing at a slow but wholly threatening pace.
    That’s it , she thought, and her gaze narrowed. But the sound of deep, raspy chuckling from behind her stilled her once more. The ork moved up beside her and she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eyes. He was smiling broadly. Raven frowned and glanced at him. His tusks gleamed brightly in the few weak beams of moonlight that shot through the tree canopy overhead.
    “Tanith,” the ork said, shaking his big head. “I should’ve known you’d find a way out on your own.”
    Raven’s head whipped back around to face the tall figure as he finally came close enough for her to make out the lines of his features. Strong jaw, slight stubble, jet black hair. He raised his head just a touch and the light from a wayward moonbeam struck the silver glint of his eyes.
    Raven’s arms dropped. Her power fizzled out around her, settling down of its own accord. Her lips parted and her guts felt suddenly heavy. She tried to say his name, but just as she was taking a breath to do so, her heart skipped a painful beat in her chest and a sensation of dread overtook her. She caught the scent of smoke and froze – and Drake was moving.
    In one fluid movement, he pulled the sword from its scabbard across his back. The motion made a hissing metal-on-metal sound, loud enough to split the sudden silence, and moonlight reflected off of the metal of the blade, highlighting its long, razor-sharp edge. Raven’s eyes widened, but Drake was on her before she could blink.
    His sword came down in a split second of disbelief and paralyzation, and Raven watched it arc through the air, its long length winking at