Soul Unbound (Key to the Cursed Book 3)
Read Soul Unbound (Key to the Cursed Book 3) Online
Authors: Jean Murray
Of Contents
Key To the Cursed – Book 3: Soul Unbound
Jean Murray
ISBN: 978-1-943045-06-8
© Copyright Jean Murray 2015. All
rights reserved
Cover Art: Robin Ludwig Design Inc.
Editor: Judy Roth
Fated Press LLC
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This book is a work of fiction. The
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Fated Press LLC electronic
publication/print publication: October 2015
FATED PRESS
To
the readers who wanted Bomani’s story to be heard.
Aaru, 5,000 BC
Flagrant disobedience.
An unwise choice by Khalfani, Asar’s Legion
Commander. No one dared ignore the Underworld Lord’s orders or face the
consequences of his misguided judgment. Asar expected far more from his most
senior warrior. Ill tempered, Asar stalked the dirt road through the center of
the warrior village in Aaru, the Paradise Isle of the Afterlife.
Paradise, it was not.
Not for a long time. The war with Apep had dragged
on for centuries. Asar shucked off his armored chest plate and shoved it in the
waiting arms of the warrior scurrying to keep up. He should be relieved to be
rid of it.
Damn the Creations
.
Minutes after the last enemy had fallen, Asar and
his forces were given their eviction notice—no Underworlders permitted in the
human realm. This, after Asar’s legion won the final and most decisive victory
against Apep.
How dare they? He was the Lord of the Underworld,
gods
damn it
.
He fingered the key in his pocket. Despite winning
the war, he had little to celebrate, not after imprisoning his brother, Kamen,
in the dungeon for treason. Now, his Commander ignored his order to report to
the palace office?
“He is in his quarters, my Lord.” The guardian’s
face paled. Appropriate, considering the amount of trouble his Commander was in
at the moment. The perfect outlet for Asar’s rage. With a sharp pivot he turned
down the wide alleyway, leading to the officers’ billeting. Isolated and larger
than the rest, Khalfani’s quarters sat at the very end with the legion crest
carved into the heavy wooden door.
With each step forward, Asar’s bitter thoughts
drifted back to his wayward allies. No
thank you
, or even a gods' damn
nod before the Creations revoked the alliance. Allies only when it suited them.
“The Commander dare not greet me personally?” Asar
hissed, not acknowledging the warrior who bowed.
“Lord, I am afraid…”
Asar waved him off, not wanting to hear any
excuses. Khalfani had disobeyed a direct order and returned to the human realm,
risking a civil war with the Creations.
To do what?
His Commander had some
explaining to do.
Asar snatched the handle and jerked the door
partially off its hinges. The wood groaned in protest. “Stay outside.” Asar
slammed the door in the guardian’s face.
“Commander!” Asar’s heavy footfalls echoed in the
otherwise empty living room. He shifted his cold stare through the arched
doorframe to the interior bedroom. Khalfani’s energy failed to resonate in
Asar’s soul. What in
duat
was going on?
The silhouette of a male’s shape behind the thin curtain
about the bed drew his attention. “Commander, get your ass out of that bed and
come kneel before me.” When Khalfani failed to act, Asar stalked forward into
the room and ripped the fabric from its hooks.
The stench of burnt flesh wafted upward and
slammed into him. A charred body lay across the linen sheets, the face
unrecognizable. Asar stared at the remains of the Underworld crest on his
Commander’s left chest. Wavering on his feet, he grasped the bedpost to steady
himself.
“
Isis
, Khalfani. What has befallen you?”
Pain tore through Asar’s chest, extinguishing his fury. He grasped the hand of
his Commander, careful not to damage the blackened threads of muscle and bone.
Lord or not, this loss bit deep. He swallowed back the bile.
The fourth degree burns extended from head to toe,
yet the body was ice cold. Not even the sun’s rays could have burned him to
this extent. Asar inhaled deeply, trying to differentiate the scents permeating
the air above the corpse. He expected to smell petroleum, but there was none. His
thoughts darkened, only a handful of gods had the power to create fire, Asar being
one of the few.
He touched his fingers to the dark congealed blood
at the left side of the Commander’s neck. The precise entry wound concealed
itself among the wreckage of black crisp tissue. Had he not known to look for
such a blade mark, it could have been easily overlooked.
The fire did not kill his Commander. Khalfani had
burned alive before the murderer rendered the deathblow. Blood had escaped the
wound before forever silencing Khalfani’s heart.
“Tell me your secrets, Commander.” Asar placed his
palm over Khalfani’s soul, praying a flicker of energy remained for him to
read. Once life ceased, all the living sources of energy within a warrior
disappeared and returned to the waters of the Underworld. His hand only grew
colder. His most senior warrior’s life force burned no more.
If only he were
a god,
Asar lamented.
Warriors were hardy and difficult to kill, but
enough injury could cause death of the physical vessel. Khalfani had been whole
not four hours ago when he returned to Aaru with the legions. His Commander’s
skin had been marred with battle wounds, but not this.
“What were you doing?” He could think of no reason
for his Commander to return to the human realm. Khalfani had been present when
the Creations read the decree for the expulsion of the Underworld Pantheon. The
order was clean. No Underworld gods or forces in the human realm effective
immediately.
Khalfani had never disobeyed his orders. It was
against the warrior’s very nature. Asar had ensured it during Khalfani’s
creation from the Underworld River, but apparently it was not enough. It had to
be damn important to Khalfani, whatever his reason.
He stalked to the door and yanked it open. “Get me
the Second.” He would get to the bottom of this. While he waited, his gaze
strayed to the wall from which hung the Underworld legion shield and sword. Shining
brilliantly, it bore no scorch marks and appeared unused when hours before it
was covered in the black blood of their enemy. His eyes gravitated back to the
bed. Khalfani had cleaned the symbol of all the blood of battle but did not
take it with him.
His thoughts of
why
evaporated when the
Second charged into the room.
The warrior reared up when his gaze fell upon the
charred body.
“What happened?”
“Sire.” The warrior’s wild eyes settled upon Asar
and he hastily bowed.
Based on his Second’s reaction, the officer knew
nothing of Khalfani’s motives. “Tell me what you know.”
The officer shook his head. “He directed me to
tend to the deceased.”
“Did you not consider that unusual?” Asar growled.
The care of the dead rested solely on Khalfani’s mantle.
His
obligation
as the Commander of the Legions.
“No, Sire. There were so many.”
“Did he not tell you where he was going?” Asar
asked as he paced in front of the now prostrated officer.
“No, Sire. He rarely did and I never asked.”
Worthless, just as Asar had expected. “But, did
you see?” He loomed over the male. Warriors were loyal beyond reason, but it
did not mean one would not seek to advance his station. They were alphas after
all, bred to fight. Khalfani’s rise to power was nothing more than natural
selection of the most severe kind. Only the strongest survived, the rest were
crushed by the stampede to the top.
“The Commander showed no weakness. He sent orders
to me and I followed. It is because of him that we won the battle. No one would
dare oppose him.” The officer averted his eyes under Asar’s scrutiny.
“You have more to say?”
“No, I…” The officer’s gaze remained downcast.
“Tell me, warrior.”
“I do not know if this is significant, but there
was great strife between him and the Creation General we were sent to assist.
Khalfani outwardly opposed the Creation’s strategies of attack. Warriors were
dying senselessly. After a heavy loss the Commander refused further orders,
demanding an audience with the Regional Protector. In less than a day a legion
arrived led by a single black stallion with a rider carrying black and red
sails.”
“And?”
“Things changed as did our Commander. I rarely saw
him once we were heavily entrenched in battle. When I did, he appeared guarded
and defensive. I assumed it was the stress of leadership.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, Sire.” The officer met his gaze.
“You are to be interim Commander until I decide
otherwise. Get out!”
Asar turned back to the bed. Khalfani had
personally briefed him prior to the final siege. His Commander was focused and serious
as was typical of his personality. Not once did his behavior raise suspicions.
It was futile to send an inquiry to the Creation
Pantheon. The knowledge of Khalfani’s disobedience would raise suspicion and
accusations from their lighter-skin cousins. He would need to investigate
discretely.
As he looked upon his fallen Commander, Asar vowed
upon his soul not to let this happen again. With the utmost respect and
deference, Asar lifted Khalfani’s body into his arms and strode out the door to
the awaiting Underworld River.
Over eleven thousand warriors had perished on the
battlefield and were returned to the primordial waters. The war had decimated
their numbers to under half. Now, his Legion Commander hung limp in his arms.
His body defaced by fire.
Asar stared out over the serpentine river, running
from the human realm to his doorstep and ferrying the dead to their judgment.
This day, the humans would wait. Khalfani deserved nothing less than to have
his Master intern him back to the waters of his birth.
Instead of wading into the water and releasing the
body whole, as was custom, Asar laid the charred corpse upon the sand. With the
blade from his hip he cut into the Commander’s chest and pulled out his black
heart, the source of the warrior’s living power. Although Underworld
descendants never once felt the beat of their heart, it held the power of life,
knowledge, will and spirit of the individual. The holy waters would release the
souls from the bodies to be reborn in the form of new warriors. The next
generation would carry the strength and wisdom of their ancestors.
He looked down at the male he had shared ale with
earlier this evening. “I will not let your death go unpunished. You shall rise
to find your killer. You shall be avenged.”
Khalfani’s successor would be the first of his
kind, unlike any other warrior. He would possess all Khalfani’s strengths and
none of his weaknesses. This warrior would be born of Asar’s blood. A son to
lead his legion.
Asar sliced his palm with the dagger until the
dark crimson blood ran freely. He bathed the heart with the blood of a god.
Asar fed the soul with his powers of fire and death. Half warrior-half god.
“You will know the true cost of honor.”
He slipped the blood-laden heart back into the
corpse’s chest cavity. Asar milked his arm so fresh blood filled the wound. He
shifted the lifeless body into his arms and waded out into the black waters.
Soon Khalfani’s bodily vessel would be reformed into a new warrior, born with
his own distinct features and power like no other. Asar released the corpse into
calm black waters. The outline of his fallen Commander faded as it sank into
the hallowed depths.
Asar stretched his hands over the water. “I intern
thee unto your origins, so that you may rise again. Strength, power, loyalty, honor.
You will obey me and defend all that is holy. Protect all children of the
Mother Goddess and the dead who return home in Aaru. You shall rise to be a
great and powerful leader. Not even the heavens will bow to your will or the
will of your gods. Rise warrior to pledge your life to me, your Lord and
Master.”
The blackness erupted into a cauldron of boiling
water. Light pierced the depths, faint at first and then grew into a blue ball
of fire. The flames surged and pulled matter into its core. The water heaved
upward towards the sky.
Droplets rained down. Shocked by the power of the
event, Asar stepped back as the male form reared up out of the water. The newly
birthed warrior stumbled and the water once again consumed him.
Asar moved towards the dry sand, proud of his
creation. A male of size and strength, greater than any before him. The
guttural bellow resonated behind him. He turned to see his son rise from a churning
vortex, fighting against the currents of history. A warrior’s first test of
many, survive the very waters that created him. Only the strongest forged
forth. The black body lunged for the beach while the waters slashed at his legs
and arms.
A large wave crashed upon his son’s back and
slammed him to the hard bottom. The warrior burst from the surface forced up by
large thick legs. With teeth bared, the male leaned his shoulders down and struggled
forward with agonizing determination.
Asar smiled. Most tried to swim or run towards the
beach only to be dragged back into the black depths. This warrior showed
promise. Smart, deliberate and patient. His son waited for the surf to recede,
and then charged forward and breached the water’s edge.
The warrior collapsed into the soft sand. His
entire body shook. Asar stood before his son. Only when the warrior achieved
the highest rank of leadership would he be told of his heritage. Respect would
be earned not on blood alone, but by pain and fortitude.
“Rise, fledgling. Face your Lord and accept thy
name I bestow upon you.”
“Yes, Sire.” The baritone voice quivered with the
tremors racking the warrior’s enormous body.
Uncoordinated, yet firm, his son rose on shaky
knees. Asar met the golden stare of his future Commander. The warrior hissed
through clenched teeth, the pain clearly written in his expression.
Asar laid his palm over the thick, bare chest of
his son.
“Welcome to Aaru, Bomani.”