Chosen: Book 1 in the Ancients of Light series (2 page)

Their intended target never realized the evil
trailing in his wake until he broke through to a small clearing; a
lone campsite was situated at the opposite edge. Lorcan recognized
Vevila as she exited the entrance of the makeshift tent, the worry
etched in her face evident to Lorcan even at the great distance
from which he held back. “You are injured,” her eyes grew frantic
as she took in the extent of her mate’s injury. The blood from the
blade wound in his side soaked through his tunic as well as down
and through the material of his pants. Vevila made haste to his
side to provide assistance and with the opportunity so handed to
them, the two Darks materialized in the shadowed entrance of the
camp home.

Elfred’s hand made a weak motion in the same
direction, interrupting Vevila’s inspection of his side, and her
gasp of horror tore through the quiet of the clearing. Vevila
immediately recognized the nature of the trespassers and the threat
the two vampires presented. Her husband attempted to straighten
himself, seeking to defend despite his weakness while Vevila tried
to peer past the pair now blocking the entrance and into the
interior of the darkened tent. Taking note, the larger of the two
followed her gaze with his own and grinned evilly, his fangs fully
elongated, “Oh what treasure do you hide here, Witch?”

To her dismay, she heard the shuffling of
small steps nearing the flap that shielded the opening and the
singsong voice of her daughter, “Papa…papa…are you home?”

Lorcan heard the tiny voice as well, and
moved to action without hesitation. Shadowing to the narrow space
between the enemy and the entrance, he effectively cut the path to
the child. His sword was swinging even before he materialized fully
to deliver a killing blow; he owned the head of the first. The
other realized the danger as his companion’s head rolled across the
ground and snarled at Lorcan before shadowing away in haste.

During the brief seconds that the exchange
played out Vevila had managed to pull her husband’s sword, though
to her Healer’s hands the weapon was foreign. Elfred slipped to the
ground without her support, his ability to fight the ravages of his
wound gone. Vevila leveled the blade in Lorcan’s direction as the
voice came again from the shadows, “Papa…papa…I have a new
friend.”

A brown haired lass exited the doorway at
that moment, stopped short by the massive warrior in her path. She
eyed him with open curiosity; she had never seen one so large,
larger than even her own papa. His presence raised no alarm in her,
as she knew all the mighty Warriors in the Caste were sworn to
protect her.

The girl wrinkled her nose at Lorcan in
greeting and smiled. Extending a tiny hand upwards, her palm
cradled a large black spider. The girl looked at him expectantly,
waiting for praise regarding the beauty and size of her new friend.
When none was forthcoming, she just smiled brighter and thrust the
spider closer. Perhaps the giant could not see him from so high in
the air. “Myrrrrrrrr…dyn,” she giggled brightly, “hairy…like
Grandpapa.” The child grabbed the leg of Lorcan’s pants to steady
herself and raised high on her toes to bring her friend closer for
his inspection.

Lorcan was awestruck as she peered up at him,
a tiny toddler that barely reached his knee. He had never seen eyes
such as hers, so blue and so pale that they could have been formed
from chips of ice. She was a disheveled tot, brown curls haphazard
about her shoulders and her dress was smudged with dust as though
she had crawled under every piece of furniture in the tent to
capture her new ‘friend.’ There were few young born to the Vampire
these days and Lorcan had little contact with those that were, so
he was uncertain how to proceed and it made him uneasy.

He decided on the most expeditious course.
Pulling himself loose of her hold and taking a step to the side,
Lorcan merely ignored her and ‘Myrrdyn.’ He hated spiders and knew
that one named after that cantankerous old Sorcerer had to be worse
than most. That earned him a frown and she followed him, insistent
and loud, “You say…hello!”

He shook his head at the authority in her
voice while hiding his grin. Apparently she was being well groomed
to assume a role at the head of the Light, if her powers were in
fact those of the Chosen. Lorcan dismissed her completely as he
walked away in the direction of her mother, sheathing his sword at
the same time. The peril in their current situation necessitated
that he relocate the witches without delay.

Vevila raised her sword higher as he
approached, though recognition was dawning as she took in the sable
locks just brushing the collar of his tunic, strong features and
the stormy gray eyes. The vampire looked so much like his mother
that Vevilla only questioned for lack of having any better greeting
to offer him at the moment, “Lorcan?” The vampire nodded
affirmation as he strode past her to the prone form of Elfred.

Lorcan could hear the toddler making way
behind him as he bent to retrieve the male, “Lower your weapon
Vevila, the child is in no danger from me.” He waited until his
senses ascertained a weak pulse before he lifted the lifeless form
from the ground. Continuing, he ordered, “Gather what you must have
to tend to your mate, it will be but moments before we have an army
of Dark here to claim your child…”

His statement trailed off as he was settling
Elfred over his shoulder; the aforementioned child had begun
shrieking in earnest. Lorcan turned quickly, could he have been
caught that unaware by the Dark?

The child had stopped at the severed head of
the enemy, pointing with a stubby finger as she jumped to and fro,
“Vam...pire….Vam...pire…Mama!! Vam…pire…evil…….evil.” The hairy
little Myrrdyn was long forgotten as the child screeched
frantically. Vevila hurried to her side just as the child began
kicking at the head, “Vamp...ire, Mama…vamp…”

Her last shout was interrupted by Vevila’s
hand over her lips, admonishing, “Kaitriana he is dead…be still! We
must get Papa to safety.”

The child nodded her understanding but she
remained wide-eyed in her study of the remains of the fallen.
Vevila removed her hand which Kaitriana took as permission to give
the head one final solid kick with her tiny foot. Scrunching up her
face, she was now more matter of fact, “Bad, bad, bad…he dead.” She
nodded convincingly and dusted her hands on her skirts as if she
had accomplished the slaying herself.

Lorcan could not contain his grin this time,
fully amused over the illusions of grandeur the mini-witch had
already. He shifted Elfred’s limp form and moved to the doorway
while attempting to direct them both back inside, “Vevila be quick,
if there is anything of import here gather it. All else must be
left.”

Vevila acknowledged his instruction and
disappeared into the tent, leaving him with the child once more.
This time the girl stepped up onto his booted foot. Grabbing around
his knee with both arms to keep from falling, her tenacious hold
demanded his attention. Once she had it, her expression preciously
serious for one of such limited years, she pierced him with those
extraordinary eyes, “Papa…hurt?” Her lip began trembling and her
eyes grew thoughtful as they swept over her father where he lay
across Lorcan’s shoulder.

Lorcan was uncertain whether to confirm the
girl’s observation or ignore it. If she started squawking as she
had moments before he might begin to seriously regret his decision
to save her from the Dark ones, but the upset in her eyes pulled at
him. He nodded gravely, “Aye, little Kat, Papa is injured.” She
frowned at that, poking at her father’s limp leg once and then
worried her bottom lip with little white teeth. Gazing up at him,
her voice was hopeful, “Sleeping?”

He nodded down at her, happy to see she would
not be prone to wailing at every opportunity. Placing his hand atop
her head, he confirmed, “Aye, princess, sleeping.”

The shift in her demeanor was instantaneous.
Kaitriana beamed at him, she liked this Warrior. There were many
Warriors in her Caste, but he was the biggest and he was helping
her papa. Having decided that he would be her newest friend, she
pointed her little finger back at the bloodied head and reported in
a conspiratorial whisper, “He bad…. vamp…ire…he dead dead
dead.”

Her mother reappeared in the doorway before
he was required to answer, arms laden with their belongings. Vevila
looked to Lorcan with apology, “She is too young to understand the
difference between those of Light and of Dark, it is best that she
stay away from all of your kind until her powers are fully
evolved.”

Lorcan had taken no offense at the girl, he
had assumed the child would be unfamiliar with the Vampire breed.
That Vevila had casually grouped him in with all other Vampire,
dismissing readily the circumstances of his birth, stung more than
he expected. He waved off her explanation impatiently and squatted
to scoop the girl with his free arm. Kaitriana liked that and
affectionately patted his cheek with her dirt-smudged hand to let
him know as much. His attention was still centered on Vevila, “We
must go and you must remain still; it will require much strength to
transport the three of you with me.” As she was nodding, he issued
an exasperated sigh; Kaitriana had been repeatedly yanking at his
hair. His patience gone, he fixed a hard stare on the child, his
voice stern “Cease!”

He caught the terror in her eyes as they
locked with his and her lower lip was trembling again. Apparently
she
was
going to be prone to screech at
every little offense. He waited for her to start howling, but
instead she put her little hand back to the side of his cheek and
whispered with a nod in the direction that she faced over his
shoulder, “Bad Bad Bad…vamp…ire….he no dead.”

Lorcan spun quickly, encircling the girl
tighter in his hold and already preparing to shadow. His cold gaze
landed on Rhydach at the far edge of the woods. At least fifty Dark
warriors fanned out behind him. The little authoritarian found her
voice again as she shifted in Lorcan’s arms to face the Ancient
Dark leader as well, “No no no…bad bad bad.” Though her left hand
had knotted the material of Lorcan’s shirt in her fright, her right
was directed towards their enemy. Blue light sparkled at her
fingertips.

Giving no heed to the little witchling, the
Dark that had earlier tracked her father now recklessly raised his
sword and pointed it in Lorcan’s direction in a show of might. His
bravery was bolstered by the many behind him. The act of aggression
made him the focus of the child’s attention and the sparks of blue
took the shape of an orb in her palm. It shot across the clearing,
striking the vampire full in the chest.

The unfortunate vampire burst into flames as
though scorched by the rays of the sun and confusion and panic
ensued in the ranks of the Dark warriors. The chaos provided the
avenue for their escape. Little would keep Lorcan from engaging
Rhydach in battle when given the opportunity, but what he held in
his arms today may well be the future of the Realm and he would
protect her. Still reeling over the display of power from the
little witch, he retreated from the fight, shadowing away with
Rhydach’s bellow of rage echoing after them.

CHAPTER 2

The strain of pulling the three with him as
he shadowed temporarily taxed Lorcan’s strength so much that he
nearly dropped the girl as they materialized. He had brought them
to Laverock, the dilapidated castle that had once been seat to the
Warrior Caste of Witch. It had been his mother’s estate through her
position as leader of the Caste.

The dank air inside the walls of crumbling
rock told of the centuries that the building had remained
unoccupied and untended. Lorcan had spent his youth racing the
halls with his brothers, carefree and happy under his mother’s love
and guidance and he had not returned to the location since his
mother’s death. Why he chose to return here now was still not clear
to him, but his mood immediately darkened and his discomfort was
apparent.

The stone walls would protect them as long as
required, no one dared venture here. The last of the occupants had
left in the weeks following Brisen’s death as the escalating
tensions between the Vampire and Witch had erupted into battles.
Alaric had no desire to remain within the confines of a place
founded on witchery and in his rage he wanted no Witch to find home
there either. The Ancient had banned all immortals from the
ancestral estate and none had defied his dictate…until today.

Lorcan was snapped from his reverie by the
little witchling at his hip clapping her hands happily and bouncing
up and down in her excitement. She offered him a grin; she
really
liked this warrior. Kaitriana
combined her giggling laughter with her demand, “Again…again again
again.”

He gave her a stern frown and set her down
abruptly, scanning the hall. It had not withstood well the many
years of abandonment. The errant thought of how disappointed his
mother would be with the condition of her once splendid home caused
a flash of guilt which served only to darken his mood further.
Turning to Vevila, his tone was cool, “Tend your male.”

Banishing them along with the memories of his
mother from his thoughts, Lorcan set about finding something that
he could put into the hearth to be burned for warmth. Vevila was
continually interrupted in her attempts to survey the extent of
Elfred’s wounds as she had to call the little one back from
trailing after the vampire. Finally, her frustration mounting, she
waited for Lorcan’s next appearance and beckoned him with an
imploring look.

A curt nod conveyed his understanding while
his jaw clenched in vexation over being saddled with the errant
child. Lorcan looked down to acknowledge his shadow, not bothering
to hide his exasperation, “Come, wee one, allow your mother to
focus on her healing.” Oblivious to the reluctance of her
companion, delight lit Kaitriana’s features. She raced ahead in the
direction he had been heading, anticipating adventure with the big
warrior.