The Vitalis Chronicles: White Shores (14 page)

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Authors: Jay Swanson

Tags: #Fantasy

BOOK: The Vitalis Chronicles: White Shores
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Something snapped behind her, quiet but out of place. She focused, listening for any sound of movement. Another light snap came from a stone's throw to her right. Alisia peeked motionlessly over her arms, scanning for any sign of the intruders. Leaves rustled above with renewed intensity as the wind picked up and rushed through the woods.

The singing of the birds started to die down as the sun began to force the darkness out. Their chirping and tweeting grew steadily softer and more intermittent. She was not alone. The young woman moved slowly, shifting her weight as nonchalantly as she could manage.

The wind died down, an eerie silence hanging in its wake. She paused as she got her left knee under her and planted her right foot in front, making sure to keep her head down the whole time. Then she saw them, two Hunters coming slowly through the brush ahead, all but invisible in their specialized camouflage.

There would be at least six more. Alisia was certain now that she was surrounded. White heat began to course through the veins in her arms, pumping power towards her fingertips for easy access. She put her palms down, she would need to run before they could release whatever surprises they had for her. The last thing she needed was for them to land the first blows.

She took a deep breath, said a quick prayer, and lunged forward. Placing her left foot on the trunk in front of her she jumped into the air as high as she could. They were plain as day to her as the magic coursed through her veins, sharpening her senses. She thrust her arms out in front of her, palms out as she came down.

The two men were reaching for something, some sort of
MARD
she suspected. It was too late to turn back now. Bright white bursts flashed from her palms lighting up the dim undergrowth. She yelled as bravely as she could, rolling through the explosions that landed around her as other Hunters opened fire.

Alisia got up and started running, passing between the two men as they writhed and smoldered on the ground. The slender white trees began to burst around her as the remaining Hunters fired their small explosive rounds at her. Alisia did her best to form a shield around herself as the splintered wood lashed out, but her focus was on escape.

She could hear them shouting behind her. The chase began now that all pretense of surprise was lost. Hurdling more fallen logs, she took a hard right and headed down a draw that would lead her to a honeycomb of caves.

Known as Brighton's Hideout, it had been used by the famous general to conceal his troops from the Shadow during the Purge, and would serve as the best hiding place. It was about sixty miles west of Levanton, half way to the coast. Smugglers of various breeds had used it in more recent times to conceal contraband until they'd been forced out by something. No one seemed to know what exactly.

The Hunters had been after her for the last two days. Alisia had no idea where they had come from or why they had waited the better part of a week to come after her, but they were beginning to make life hell for her.

Alisia couldn't fend them off on her own. She had barely ever gotten into a fight and these were battle hardened murderers. It gave her a sick sense of satisfaction to skewer a few here and there, but she would rather avoid them all together. They were getting closer to catching her with every encounter.

She dropped into the dry riverbed at the bottom of the draw and began to move uphill towards the caves as quickly as she could. Roots jutted out of the tall, narrow gorge to either side like crooked tendrils in search of fresh victims.

Her long, dark, auburn hair worked itself loose from its constraining bun as she reached the mouth of the first set of caves. Stacked on top of each other like barrels on their sides, each led deep into the mountain. Some arrived at a dead end a few hundred yards down; others crisscrossed with their neighbors and dove into caverns that stretched for miles under the roots of the Northern Range.

A person could easily get lost in those caverns, but she knew that they were her only hope of cutting off pursuit. If she was lucky she would come out somewhere far away and safe from the Mage Killers that chased her now.

Alisia grabbed onto a ledge just above her head and pulled herself up, scrambling over the edge and running into the darkness beyond. She took the large, decorative pin out of her hair, letting the tangled mess hang loose as she moved farther into the cave. It was the last gift her mother had ever given her, and her heart sank at the thought of losing it.

She placed it carefully in her pocket and slowed as the light dissipated. Warmth steadily built in her forearm as she prepared to light her own way. She waited to do so; the last thing she wanted was to light up the cave prematurely and give away which one she was escaping through.

She wove her way farther down, her hand on the ceiling as she felt her way along. She could feel it steadily closing in until she had to stoop to continue. Eventually she was forced to crawl, keeping her hands out in front of her as best she could to keep from smacking her face on the smooth, drooping surface. It was so dark she began to wonder if she hadn't gone blind.

The ceiling pressed in closer, the stagnant air around her getting warmer and thicker. She worked her way deeper as the thought of getting wedged in the rock worked on her fears. It was getting slippery, almost the whole place felt wet. She banged her shins on the rocks that covered the floor of the cave a few times before she was forced to crawl on her stomach. Her crawl slowed significantly as she wriggled deeper, praying she didn't get stuck.

Then suddenly it opened up, the ceiling no longer pressing on her back. She pulled herself out into what she assumed was a cavern.

She brushed herself off subconsciously as she stood, small pebbles clattering softly on the stone floor beneath her. Alisia raised her hands in front of her face, though she couldn't see them in the darkness. She closed her eyes and focused, the warmth in her arms returning and slowly rising to her wrists. She gathered it there slowly until she had enough.

She widened her fingers quickly, releasing it into the air. As it rushed through her fingers she could feel the energy leap into her cupped hands and form a small floating ball of what would appear to be glowing smoke. She could feel its warmth on her face; see the light through her eyelids. She smiled, keeping her eyes closed, and focused on that little ball; pouring more energy into it, surrounding it with an invisible shield that would contain it as it grew brighter. The last thing she wanted was to have a small explosion on her hands. Quite literally in this case.

With the casing around the writhing smoke complete she began to roll it in her hands, slowly condensing and finalizing its shape. The ball floated in space as she wove invisible strings in and through it, commanding it in her mind to hover just off to her left and follow her from there. She needed it to shed light onto her path without blinding her.

Alisia stopped the rolling motion with her hands and simply held them palms up as the ball conformed to her will and floated off to her left. She could feel it rest in the air, bobbing slightly as it waited. She smiled again and opened her eyes, content with her work.

It took a moment to adjust to the new light in the caves, long enough for the movement to her right to go unnoticed.

She could tell she had stumbled upon a rather large space. She hoped that it had more tunnels leading out from the other side. The trick would be to find a stream or current in the air and follow it to safety. There were dozens of paths that led back to the surface; she just had to hope she stumbled on one. Pebbles struck the floor to her right as something shifted its weight. She turned, the ball of light rotating with her in the same motion.

Frozen in place, Alisia stared at the rocks that jutted out of the ground like mountainous, craggy stalagmites. A dark shape rested at the top of one, staring straight at her. She backed slowly into the cavern, keeping her eyes glued on the creature which rested only ten yards away.

She could make out its claws, long and worn from the rocks of the caves. Their roots disappeared into thick black stubs that looked like fingers cut off at the first knuckle. Yellow teeth appeared in the middle of the dark shape as it growled, its figure shrinking slightly as it tensed, preparing to pounce.

Alisia braced herself subconsciously, painfully aware that escape wasn't an option. It growled at her, making a long deep gurgling noise. Then it lunged, revealing long, thick hind legs like a hairy, tar-covered frog. She put her hands up, the heat in her arms rushing forward without a moment's hesitation.

The cavern lit up and the beast screamed, knocked back and sprawling to stop itself as it slid along the broken and uneven floor into the darkness. But Alisia wasn't looking at the creature any more. She was far more concerned with the rest of the space to her left and beyond. The cave was full of the things.

She could sense them closing in around her, though it was difficult to make them out in the darkness that danced just beyond the reach of her little floating light. But she knew they were there, had seen them in the flash; dozens of them at least. Each one looked to be the size of a small bear. There was more of the low gurgling coming from the darkness, as if the creatures were communicating in some archaic guttural language.

Arms held up, fingers loosely extended, Alisia drew the warmth out again as she tried to maintain her breathing. She was tiring, and trapped. The first beast became visible at the edge of the light, its black eyes glistening dimly as it grinned to reveal a mouth full of jagged yellow teeth. It gurgled violently at her, spittle mixed with little black bits spiraling in wet arcs to the floor.

The teeth were long, half rotten, sinister like nothing Alisia had ever seen before. It crouched and hesitated for a moment, apparently unwilling to come into the light. And then it pounced. Claws reached out from the end of long, muscular arms as if to run her through. She screamed, falling back under its weight. The cavern lit up in bright flashes of white light as a mass of writhing, hairy black bodies converged on the Magess.

TEN
 

T
HE SHADOW KING
walked slowly up the winding mountain path that would take him home. He had taken this trail hundreds of times before, though to the untrained eye it was difficult to spot even when standing right on top of it. At its end, a mile ahead, lay a small cottage and wood shed that held what little of his old life remained. The Magess he had protected for the better part of two decades lived there, along with their son.

Shadow were cold, loveless creatures. But after taking over Silvers as a host he had found himself overrun with human weaknesses, emotions being the worst of all. They had, however, led him to fall in love with Vascentia. Their son was another perk of his mixed blood, and he came to care deeply for them both.

He proceeded towards them with caution now; there was evidence of the passage of other men. The subtle signs of Khrone's Hunters dotted the path. How they knew about this place was beyond the Shade, and though he knew he had to act quickly, he also knew that walking into a trap was a mistake he could not afford to make.

Soon, however, the urgency of the situation began to get the better of him. He faded into his other-worldly form, barely visible in the sunlight, and drifted off the trail in a direct line for the cottage. Each time he crossed the winding path he saw more evidence of soldiers passing, but none of their presence. He could sense smoke in the air as he drew close to the small clearing his home rested in.

He slowed to a stop, hiding behind a large fir tree. The world was different to a Shade in its metaphysical form, nothing fully visible, nothing to smell. All of his physical senses were replaced with hazy visions and sensations that told him where he was and what was happening around him. He hated changing forms. He hadn't done it for ages until the past few days.

Satisfied that no Hunters were nearby, he took his physical form again, the smell of smoke and burnt flesh instantly shocking his nostrils. The cottage and woodshed were burned out skeletons of their former selves. Small flames lapped up from hot spots among the smoldering rubble. A few trees nearby still smoked as their pitch made treacherous attempts to catch fire.

Then he saw her, a broken and twisted form lying on the ground in the open. He rushed forward past a
MARD
rod that had been shoved in the ground just inside the clearing, its charge long spent. He slid to a halt on his knees as he reached her frail body, beaten bloody, almost unrecognizable.

He pulled off his black leather gloves and checked for signs of life. There were hardly any. She was on the verge of passing. He began to weep as he clutched her shoulders and pulled her to himself. Something jabbed his chest lightly as he wrapped his arms around her body. Startled he held her at arm's length. Pulling back at her torn blouse he found a small knife, the handle of which was still jutting out from between her ribs. Under it was a note.

He pulled it gingerly out from under the knife, unwilling to disturb her any further. It tore free easily. Bloodstained, it was difficult to read, but the message came through clearly enough. They knew who he was, and had for some time. They would take everything from him in due course. There were some other scribbles he couldn't make out, but the last word was very clearly written at the end of the note. It simply read, in capital letters:
TRAITOR
.

The Shadow King clutched his wife's body to himself again and cradled it as he rocked back and forth on his knees. Grief was replaced by a sense of self-condemnation. How could he have been so foolish to think they wouldn't know?

That rat bastard Merodach had him followed. He should have known; he shouldn't have been so naive as to think he wouldn't. The Shade doubled over and clenched his teeth as the thought ravaged him: this was all his fault. He couldn't protect his people; he couldn't even protect one Magess. His wife...

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