The Vitalis Chronicles: White Shores (25 page)

Soon they were nearing the river bank, and as the draw opened up into the gorge the trees gave way and they found themselves back in an arid, grassy landscape.

They turned downstream. He was certain the pair was headed for the coast and what few signs they had seen had suggested the same. It was hard to track and at the same time be concerned with speed, but they managed well enough. They were famous for it.

He had split his squad up the week before in hopes of finding the Magess more quickly, and while it had worked it had cost him dearly. He was getting frustrated with the losses, and he knew that if Lucius had just waited for him to arrive things would have gone differently. He swore under his breath as he picked up the pace.

They ran for another hour or so before he heard the first echoes of gunfire farther on and swore again. Will should have waited until they were in view. He was losing control of his men.

As they rounded the bend in the river, they saw their prey, small hunched figures in the distance. His heart jumped in hopeful expectation. They looked like they were scared spitless. He smiled behind his mask, but his smile disappeared as the witch got up and shielded their escape with the huge log she'd been hiding behind.

He swore a third time and glanced over his shoulder. His men had fallen behind and he signaled for them to hurry. He couldn't let them get away, and Will hadn't taken up a position that was close enough to keep them in range if they ran. He was concerned that if they crossed the river, he would lose them.

They made it to the water's edge and he figured it best to try and slow them now, or possibly lose his chance of capturing them all over again. He dropped to a knee, bringing his rifle to his shoulder in one smooth motion. He flicked his safety off and into its 'burst fire' position, took aim, and started shooting. The other three Hunters joined him there and began to unsling their own rifles but he ordered them to keep running. He would do his best to wound them if he could, but they needed to keep the chase.

He waited for them to cross his line of fire and then continued to take shots, but the witch was splashing and steaming the water up behind her so much that he found it hard to see the pair. He fired a few more times into the mess of water but slowly accepted the fact that they were out of range. He dropped the spent magazine from his smoking rifle and loaded a fresh one before slinging it over his shoulder and taking off after his men.

They were over half way to the ford by now, their prey nearly across the river. He waved at Will to join them, but couldn't actually tell if the sniper was still on the ridge. Keaton was still trying to find his outline among the rocks when he heard a whooshing sound like a thousand fish jumping out of the water at once. He looked ahead towards the ford to find that it wasn't fish, it was stones flying towards his men by the hundreds.

Captain Anders Keaton stopped in his tracks as his three Hunters, now at the water's edge and crossing, were blown backwards by the onslaught of the river's fury. The water and dust began to settle as he gaped openly. His men were all down and the witch was turning to flee the river. He hardly paid her any attention as he ran, his mind consumed with his men.

This had quickly become the worst operation he had ever run. He made it to the ford's edge, looking frantically for his men when he saw two of them on their backs just a little farther on. The third was face down in the river, floating slowly away.

Keaton ran out into the water, thrashing his way to the soldier and dragging him back towards the air he so badly needed. The man's face was streaked with watery blood, each streak growing in thickness as the water slid off his face. Bruises were already forming in what skin remained unbroken. The lean captain yelped in anger and felt like crying at the sight. He dragged the man to dry land to discover the other two still floating lifeless in the shallows.

The captain tore his helmet off as he knelt over his unconscious Hunter, tearing back at the armor to try and find the sources of bleeding underneath. There were dozens of places where the skin had been broken in spite of his armor. He was dying. Keaton tried putting pressure on the wounds. There were too many to stop, but he made the frantic attempt in spite of its futility. He was weeping now, bare hands firmly pressing down on the larger wounds.

If the soldier felt anything he didn't show it, he simply remained unconscious.

Keaton threw himself at the wounds with a vengeance as the bleeding slowed. Soon they were barely oozing, lacking the pressure necessary to keep the blood flowing. There was little drama for the soldier's part, he simply exhaled softly and never drew breath again.

Anders Keaton, however, wept openly and threw his head down on his bloodied hands. He couldn't believe this was happening, he had never lost a man before this venture. He should have been first in the river, it was his place. It was his place.

The river continued to wander by as Keaton's whole countenance changed visibly. He stiffened and then sat up straight, staring over the body and upriver at the other two corpses. He didn't see that far, simply trying to make up his mind as he washed his hands off in the shallow water around his knees. And then he made it and stood.

“I'm not letting this all be for nothing,” the captain said to himself at the edge of losing his composure. He strapped his helmet back into place, locking it into the leather that was wrapped around his neck.

“We aren't doing him any good by standing over his body, and Will won't be able to get down here for another hour if he's smart about it. I'm going after that rotten witch and I'm going to end this right now.”

There was no one to hear him, but he needed to believe someone knew. Someone, somewhere. Anywhere. And with that, Captain Anders Keaton took off running as hard as the water in the river would allow.

He crossed and made his way up the other side, turning left into a large grouping of boulders that would lead him on the trail to the Delta. It had been a long time since any of them had been this far from Elandir on a hunt. Wandering into another City State's territory on such business was tricky. He didn't care.

He came to the first cliff face and rounded it swiftly, aches and pains working their way out of joints and muscles as the rush of the chase caught him. He lived for this; they were Khrone's Ghosts. They were swift and silent and deadly and no prey could outrun them in the end. He almost yelped for joy when he caught sight of the ragged pair ahead of him. It looked like the boy had been hit by one of his wild shots.

He would take that as a good omen, he thought to himself, as he lowered his head and picked up the pace. He was just starting to sweat. This had been a good chase. They'd put up a good effort, he'd give them that.

They were still a ways off, up into the cliffs now, but he would catch them soon enough. Captain Anders Keaton smiled at the certainty.

A
RDIN FELT LIKE
he was climbing a mountain. The path wound even higher into the cliffs until they were near the very top of the Rent. The gorge looked enormous from up here as the shadows began to lengthen. It was so deep and wide, he had hardly been able to tell its magnitude from the river's edge. In a way he wished he could just stop, sit at the edge of a cliff, and watch the sunlight work its moving magic on the landscape.

He was so tired of the violence, the killing, the pain. He wasn't made to take life, he wasn't so sure anyone was, and he pitied those who might hold that distinction.

Alisia had grown increasingly tired as they climbed. The event at the river crossing had taken its toll on her more than she had realized.

They rounded one final bulging cliff face to find the glistening ocean-side city of Brenton sitting on the Delta below. Ships of all sizes crowded in the harbors and even more floated out along the coast, waiting their turn to enter the port. Ardin felt a sense of hope rise for a moment against the exhaustion.

“Look,” Ardin said as if to give Alisia a renewed sense of energy. “Brenton! They won't dare chase us in there.”

Alisia forced a smile, but she wasn't so sure. To Ardin it seemed all downhill from here. His arm was still stiff but he felt significantly better, and now they were within sight of safety.

He glanced back the way they had come to where the path wound into the boulders below. For a moment he swore he saw something move among them, but convinced himself it was simply the shadows playing tricks. The last thing he wanted to believe was that there was another Hunter that close by.

Soon they were descending towards the city, the cliffs becoming more craggy and dangerous as they neared the coast. A few times Ardin's concern flared up in the face of a dangerously narrow stretch of the path, but they managed well enough. For a while their route worked back in on itself so much it almost felt like a winding, serpentine stairway.

And that's when he saw him, the Hunter with the sweeping wings on his helmet. He was moving quickly down the path towards them, his black and dark green armor blending him into the dusk. Ardin wasn't sure if they had been spotted or not, but he knew they had to move.

“They're almost on us, Alisia,” he tried to encourage her to pick up the pace. “We have to go!”

She mumbled a response, but didn't move much faster.

“We have to go!” he yelled in her ear.

She perked up immediately, shaking the proverbial cobwebs from her vision and looking at him with fresh eyes.

“They're coming?”

“They're coming, we have to go faster, now!”

“Ok,” she said tentatively. “I think I can.”

“You don't have much choice,” he said as he put her in front of him. “Run.”

She did, he was startled by how quickly she moved as compared to the moments before. They both seemed to be full of surprises today. He started working to catch up, winding in and out of the steep drop-offs that lined the cliffs as the river began to widen and engage the sea.

He was equally startled when he caught up to her around a particularly wide and safe looking corner in the pathway. She was standing there, waiting for him.

“Keep going,” she said, head lowered and right hand slowly stretching out.

“What?”

“Move behind me!”

He obeyed, and turned to see what she would do. In a swift movement she managed to cause the path to crack twice. Each crack went from the wall straight to the path's edge about five feet apart from each other. He was astonished by how silently the stone reacted. She pressed her hand down firmly, causing the stone to crack a third time along the cliff face and slowly rotating it out and away. Soon the wedge of stone was teetering and dropped away into what seemed like an endless free fall to the water below.

She turned to him, smiling. “He won't see that coming.”

He wouldn't either, the gap in the path was immediately following the curve around the jutting cliff face. It would come up on him as a total surprise. Even if he was walking there was a good chance he would fall. It made Ardin's stomach broil to think of someone dropping the hundreds of feet to the ground below. It looked like miles to him from up here.

“C'mon Ardin!” she yelled after him. “We need to go!”

He jogged down to her as she slowly navigated the next winding section of the path. Ardin couldn't get the image of a man falling to his death out of his mind as they continued down. His throat twisted at the idea and he couldn't push it from his thoughts. The now familiar burrowing sensation returned, creeping into his brain, encouraging him to move on and forget about it.

They hadn't gone more than a dozen more paces before he heard a yell cut short by a loud thud. He couldn't take it and turned, running as quickly up the path as he could manage. Alisia yelled after him but he ignored her. He couldn't let this happen.

He turned the corner to the straight stretch leading to the gap Alisia had made. The Hunter was reaching frantically with one arm for anything to hold onto, the other gripped an active
MARD
stick. He was sliding slowly into the gap. His legs kicked the air frantically, trying to find purchase on the steep incline that dropped away from him.

The only things keeping him alive were the tears in the arms of his armor that weakly gripped the smooth pathway. Ardin sprinted, throwing caution over the side of the cliff with the rocks that spat out from under his boots. The man was about to die.

Ardin wasn't sure what he was going to do, he had no idea how to keep from dying with the Hunter, but he no longer cared. His conscience weighed heavily on him already and he wanted nothing less than to feed it a fresh victim.

He jumped and slid feet first as he neared the edge, reaching out to grab the Hunter's outstretched arm. He felt sick as he closed the distance. The soldier finally lost his grip, sliding away almost as quickly as Ardin was coming to him. He gave another yell, desperation and despair mingling to wrench at the boy's heart.

But Ardin was quicker than gravity that day, his hand clasping the man's forearm and yanking him to a halt, feet dangling in empty space and kicking the stark face of the cliff to his right.

Let go,
came the writhing sensation in his brain.
Let the man die, let him look into your eyes and know that you were the one that ended him.

He fought back, lights blinding him for a moment as whatever the voice was screamed in his head. He almost did let go, not so much from desire but from sheer blindness and pain. Nausea roiled in his stomach.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD
! He screamed, uncertain if it had been out loud or not.

They were both breathing heavily, although Ardin could barely hear the Hunter through his thick facemask. Ardin ignored the voice and propped himself up with his elbows. Keeping his back rigid in an attempt to stop from toppling over, he grunted heavily as he strained in an effort to heave the man up. He was too heavy.