Chosen (The Chosen Few Trilogy #1)

by Leadbeater, David

  But he managed to perform one final duty.

  Even as he fell to his death his good arm flicked out a blade. It flew fast and accurate and true, embedding itself in Devon Summers’ brain. Our healer fell backwards. Dead. Not even she could heal instant death.

  Johnny grabbed my shoulders. I read the pleading in his eyes that said concentrate, oh, please concentrate.

  I dug deeper than at any time in my life, deep into my very core where race memory and raw courage and primordial violence struggled to stay contained.

  I looked up, my face covered in tears, my eyes blazing, screaming Belinda’s name.

  Beside me I felt Lucy stiffen. Out on the ocean a water spout exploded into life. Its swirling waters caused mayhem as it swept around Gorgoroth’s hateful limbs, making the God bellow in confusion.

  I linked with Johnny and, together, we sent out the strongest surge of pure power we could ever muster. Lucy’s typhoon and our power blast struck simultaneously, hitting the God with more destructive might than the world had ever known.

  Radiant white light splashed across Gorgoroth’s loathsome cloud. Even the lightning exploded up there, painting the vast tear with sparkling incandescence, blinding and healing as it swept the skies with brilliance.

  I screamed “BELINDA!” and rushed forward. I reached her in a second, Lucy at my side, falling to my knees in the blood soaked sand. I cradled her head. My tears landed on her upturned face and my heart almost stopped to see her smile.

  “Hey,” she said, and that was enough for now.

  Above us the World-ender’s spinning maw began to contract. I saw spidery legs sheared off and fall to the beach. I saw them crawl away towards the nearest darkness. The slithering sound of their passage would haunt my nightmares forever.

  Johnny came to stand over me, his hand fell on my shoulder, and we launched another devastating power wave. Lucy sent forth a tornado of primal force.

  Gorgoroth screeched in pure animal rage, a kid thwarted and venting his fury, and then his core disintegrated like a collapsed black hole. The edges of his cloud snapped together with a crack that shook the earth. The sky healed itself in that moment.

  We were left stunned by the immediate silence, our ears ringing, unable to believe that we had survived.

  I clung to Belinda. Beside me Marian Cleaver fell to his knees and cradled Devon’s body. I wept for the girl from Maui. In the end Loki had gotten his kill.

  The hateful Destroyers body lay prone in the sand before us. I watched Lucy crawl through the wet sand to Devon’s body and lean over to kiss the healers forehead. Ken collapsed near her and doubled over, his body wracked with sobs. When I glanced around, still numb, still choked, I saw Tanya scratching her head and staring in surprise at a distant running figure.

  “Emily Crowe,” Tanya replied to my unasked question. “This is unreal. Cheyne said she had a connection to the Hierarchy demons, and when Gorgoroth fell she just took off.”

  Weird. I cast around again as Belinda struggled to sit up. Behind us the exhausted Trevochet’s, along with Lysette and Giles, were in earnest conversation with Cheyne and Ceriden. Near me, a shattered and battle-worn Jade sat with glazed eyes. Even in her agony Jade wept aloud for her fallen King. Eldritch lay dead in the sand. His Queen had died days before. The Elven race was shattered. They had done everything possible to help us and now…what would they do? Were there any more elves left in the world?

  Felicia stood near Ken, her head down. I watched as Felicia’s shoulders shook.

  My God. Think of all we have lost. Of the people who gave their lives.

  Then I heard Ken cry out. My heart performed somersaults. I followed the direction of his disbelieving gaze.

  And I saw Dementia, the crazy bitch-demon, sitting nonchalantly on a fallen, still-smoking palm tree to the left of the wide-open, still-pulsing, Gates of Hell. Nothing came out of there now, but Dementia twirled a dirty lock of hair around one finger and observed us with a mocking intensity.

  “I killed you!” Ken shouted. “For Ryan and Myleene! I killed you, you fucking bitch!”

  My eyes blurred with tears. How many good people had we lost today? How many more?

  “Ken Hamiltonnnn,” Dementia hissed as glee twisted her face. “I challenge youuuuu. If you dare, come and get meeeeeeee-”

  And with that the insane demon leapt through the Gates of Hell.

  Ken screamed and made to follow, but Tanya blocked his way. “NO!” she shouted along with almost everyone else on the beach. Our chorus stopped him.

  “Not into Hell.”

  The crazy demon was gone. Back to whatever vileness she called home.

  Vampires and Lycans were walking past us now, trudging wearily up the beach, nursing their battle wounds. Marines and cops in their hundreds were mixed in among them, all comrades joined through battle.

  Then someone cried: “Eliza!” I saw a huge bear of a man stand up, the chef from Ceriden’s house we knew as Milo, with Eliza’s body cradled gently in his massive arms.

  Milo, this enormous man, was weeping uncontrollably.

  Eliza’s body was limp, but moving. I saw her feet kick, and the weak raising of her hand.

  “Oh, Eliza!” Ceriden cried out in hope and flew past me as if the pit-born hounds of hell were at his heels. “Devon must have saved her,” he shouted to anyone who would listen. “Devon protected her.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. I hoped Eliza was another one of Loki’s victims that he had overlooked. Thank God. No. . . thank poor Devon.

  I started as Lucy slipped her small hand into my own. I smiled into her tear-streaked face and hugged Belinda to me. We had won. So why did our victory feel so empty?

  Lysette suddenly screamed, her voice a knife in the dark. Everyone on the beach turned to her.

  “Seven demons,” she said, leaning her weight on Giles. “I…I read Crowe as she ran away. God, for my future sanity, I wish I hadn’t,” she groaned into Giles’ arm. “I know everything. It all comes down to the text Crowe stole from the Louvre. The Text of Seven. Including Dementia, there are seven demons. And seven Hells.” She paused, shaking her head in confusion. “The Hierarchy manipulated everything. There are seven places on Earth where seven ancient artefacts are hidden. I gleaned that. . .”

  “We should have known,” Ceriden sounded crushed, as if Cameron had just called to cancel a dinner date.

  “Known what?” Belinda asked weakly, and Felicia and Ken turned towards us.

  “It was their plan all along,” Cheyne cleared her throat. “No demon, and especially the Hierarchy demons, would destroy this world. Because it is also their world.”

  “So the mall was a distraction,” Lysette said. “Or rather- a distraction in Gorgoroth’s plan and in the minds of his Destroyers, buy Crowe was a double agent, a Hierarchy slut, and she did engineer the Hierarchy’s summoning at the mall.”

  Marian Cleaver nodded. “Whilst we were busy with Gaines?”

  “Yes,” Cheyne said. “In a normal world the witches council would have stopped any Hierarchy summoning. That is our job, to monitor magical activity. But with the finding of the Text of Arcadia and its message- that Gorgoroth was coming- it focused our attention. I believe now that the Hierarchy themselves, or Emily Crowe, arranged that we find the Text. To help keep us concentrating on Gorgoroth.”

  It made sense. “But why?” I asked. “What does the Hierarchy want?”

  “They are already seeking these seven artefacts,” Lysette said slowly. “Two of these artefacts are in Hell. The other five are scattered across the far reaches of our world-” Lysette paused to think and a profound silence settled. “We must get to those artefacts before the demons do.”

  My initial thought was: a race!

  “But why?” it was Ken’s tortured whisper.

  “Their plan all along,” Cheyne told us. “Was to be summoned whilst this whole Gorgoroth thing distracted us. To disguise their ultimate agenda.”

  Ken prompted, “Which is
?”

  Cheyne paused. “To bring Satan Himself into our world.”

  I felt my jaw drop in shock. “They’re trying to raise the Devil?”

  “They will raise the Devil,” Lysette said. “If they manage to collect all the artefacts.”

  “And the Devil is worse than Gorgoroth because-” I had to ask.

  “Imagine Hell on Earth,” Ceriden said tonelessly. “With all of us alive. Forever. I mean, Gorgoroth was just going to destroy it.”

  And now memories of visions hit my like black thunderbolts. I had seen Belinda captured by a demon, corpses piled high. They hadn’t been visions of the coming of Gorgoroth. They had been premonitions as I had feared, precursors to the coming of Satan. The Devil.

  The very embodiment of mankind’s deepest fears. And he would bring Hell to Earth.

  Ken turned once again towards the Gates of hell, hefting his sword. “It comes down to Dementia and me.” he started forward, and my heart went out to him. “I will go into Hell and find the artefacts. Someone has to.”

  “No,” I heard the Jade, the elf, say. “Not without me.”

  Then Felicia looked straight at me and flicked a glance off Belinda to Ken. “And not without me, too.”

  I felt my heart break as our fellowship broke apart. I remembered Felicia sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee, playfully mocking Belinda and explaining to me the ways of her kind. She loved life; she loved the freedom of the run. And she had just volunteered to walk the dread paths of Hell.

  Together they stood, these new companions, brushed themselves off, and walked towards the Gates of Hell, kicking sand as they went. Moonlight and starshine glittered from their eyes and in shimmering shards from their readied weapons.

  Humility brought tears to my eyes. One swift glance at Belinda and I knew that if she had been able, she would have accompanied them as well.

  But still there was more. I saw Eliza wriggle out of Milo’s grasp and land on steady feet, breathing harshly, but determined. “I will help you, Ken.” Eliza spoke up, and Milo also grunted in agreement.

  And finally Mai walked up to the little group. “And I,” she said with venom. “I also owe Dementia a painful death.”

  “There are still five artefacts to race for on earth,” I said, mainly for Belinda’s benefit.

  Marian Cleaver added. “The Hierarchy has a head start on us.”

  Cheyne nodded. “And we will need all of your help. There is a copy of the Text of Seven at the library. I’m sure there are riddles to solve, codes to crack. The search must start now. Without delay. We must determine the location of the five pieces on Earth before the Hierarchy finds them,” she glanced behind her. “Come Brethren, timing is everything now. We must begin.”

  Behind Cheyne, the coven began to gather. As a group they passed beyond the exhausted Johnny Trevochet and his wife, Natalie who clung to one another, just happy to be alive. I studied the approaching coven. All twelve witches wore dark cloaks that covered their bodies and deep cowls that concealed their faces. Almost as one they reached around their necks for their platinum talismans, the source of their powers, as I had seen Cheyne do a dozen times already.

  They were ready to cast their spell. Where would they send us?

  I held tightly to Belinda and promised myself we wouldn’t be separated anytime soon.

  Some promise.

  THE END

  Authors Note

  As you may now gather my novel, Chosen, is the first part of a trilogy. There are many more journeys planned for our adventurers. Much peril and adventure and heartache.

  I’m currently planning and writing Books 2 and 3 of the Chosen Few trilogy. All helpful, genuine comments and advice are welcome. I would love to hear from you.

  davidleadbeater2011@hotmail.co.uk

  Visit my website for the latest information: www.davidleadbeaternovels.co.uk

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