Soul Unbound (Key to the Cursed Book 3) Read online

  SOUL

  UNBOUND

  KEY TO THE CURSED

  BOOK 3

  JEAN MURRAY

  FATED PRESS

  Table Of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek

  Soul Unleashed

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Acknowledgments

  Author Bio

  Copyright

  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.

  www.gobookcoverdesign.com

  Editor: Judy Roth

  Fated Press LLC

  PO Box 1914

  Huntingtown, MD 20639

  Ebooks/Books are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Fated Press LLC electronic publication/print publication: October 2015

  FATED PRESS

  www.fatedpress.com

  Dedication

  To the readers who wanted Bomani’s story to be heard.

  Prologue

  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 bl
ack 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.”

  Chapter One

  Present Day, New York

  The wind screamed through the dark alley and kicked up black rotten garbage. The debris hit the back of Bomani’s legs along with the damp air clawing up the gap in his coat. He gritted his teeth.

  Bast was late, again.

  Bomani’s bounty cowered in the corner next to the green dumpster. The exiler had been easy to find and subdue. Not unlike the prior five he had caught, but this one sliced a damn hole through his wool coat.

  The exiler shifted.

  “Go ahead. Run. It will only give me another reason to beat your ass,” Bomani snarled.

  The minor god buried his head in his knees and sobbed. “I am innocent. You have the wrong god.”

  Bomani stared at the scarab mark on the back of the god’s neck. He did not know this exiler’s crime, nor did he care. In all his years as the Underworld Legion Commander, he had yet to see one innocent of the crime. “Yeah, I believe you.” Bomani snorted.

  Memories of his former life inflamed the pain in his chest. The warrior and leader he had once been died along with Kendra, the first to capture his heart and the last to break it.