The Vitalis Chronicles: White Shores (33 page)

“I'm afraid I'm not so surprised to see you here, but I'm glad you're alright.”

“Caspian!” she shouted gleefully as the defenses around her heart melted.

The old man simply laughed as she ran across the beach and threw her arms around him. She had reached White Shores, and for once, she felt truly safe.

B
ILL WOKE UP
as another wave rolled slowly against his face. He snorted angrily as the salt water attempted to work its way up his nose. Rolling onto his back, he squinted against the sun, raising his arm in an attempt to shield his eyes from its blazing heat.

Debris of all kinds surrounded him along the beach. Under his arm lay the splintered plank of wood that had been his only lifeline the day before. He was genuinely surprised to find himself alive.

Someone coughed nearby.

“Who's there?”

“Bill?”

“Tommy?!” Bill jumped up to find his best friend lying only feet away among another few chunks of debris. He stumbled over to him and dropped down in the shallow water laughing. “I thought for sure we was gone as gone there, Tom.”

“Aye.” Tom coughed again. “Me too. Feel like I might as well be.”

“Well don't you worry mate,” Bill lifted Tom's shirt to better see the gash across his stomach. “Those dirty slavers will be here any moment and we'll have them patch you up right.”

“Somehow,” Tom coughed again. “I wager they'll want money.”

“We'll dig something out of the wreckage, Tom. Don't you worry yourself.”

“Oi!” a familiar voice came from down the shore. “You two!”

“Devil in hell,” Bill said as he looked south along the beach. “How did he survive all that, then?”

From a good way down the beach came Clive, pale as a sheet and about as stable on his feet. He shook as he walked and seemed barely capable of maintaining a straight line. The open wound on his skull was clearly visible from where Bill crouched. Washed clean by the sea, it looked like it had mostly closed up. It was too bad it had, Bill thought to himself. He'd rather the bastard hadn't made it.

“Well he'll be here in a moment, pray he doesn't cause any trouble, would ya?”

Tom simply groaned.

“Aye,” Bill agreed. “Mayhaps you should pray for yourself first. Let's get you on dry land then eh?”

And with that he started dragging his friend out of the water. It took him a while considering he didn't have much left in the way of strength and Tom was almost as big as he was. Finally they were up high enough that the tide wouldn't catch them. Bill dragged Tom into the shade of the nearest tree and plopped down in the sand next to him.

“Well, let's hope them slick bastards show up before any of us dies then, shall we? Any of us except'n Clive over there, bastard. Hope he trips and opens that wound again, I does.”

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Clive didn't trip. He meandered over to them, taking a much less than direct route, and plopped down next to Bill.

“Well,” he said teetering forward, almost losing his balance completely before sitting back up. “That was a mess then, hey?”

Bill didn't respond, he just sat staring at the broken debris and few bodies that floated along the shore. His head hurt terribly, but all he could think about was that girl. How she looked, how she felt, how she'd knocked him unconscious. He gritted his teeth at that. He would make her pay for it, for robbing him of what dignity he had. He didn't know why he'd survived, but he felt like it might as well be to hunt her down and make her his.

“Well,” Clive slurred as he made an attempt at standing. “As much fun as it is sitting here with you fairies, I think I'm going to go find a drink.”

He fell once, then twice, then finally stood on knocking knees.

“You look like you've already had a few.”

“Well,” he muttered, eyes almost crossing. “I haven't, and I'll be damned if I don't get one before I die.”

Bill turned to watch him attempt to walk into the trees. “You're daft, Clive. You should wait for the slavers to come.”

“Rotten slavers,” Clive muttered weakly over his shoulder. “No-good filthy pox-ridden motherless whore... whore... bastards.”

He hadn't made it more than a dozen paces when he was thrown back from the trees like a child's doll. He slammed into the sand next to Bill, who jumped to his feet in surprise. Clive just groaned and passed out in the small sandy crater.

“Who's there?” Bill looked around, and to his mingled relief and terror, no one presented themselves.

He turned from side to side, biting his lip as he watched the trees. A large shadow passed under his feet as the sound of leathery wings flapped overhead.

He spun to see a large beast settle on the ground front of him. It looked sort of like a man, a huge man, nine feet tall with dark gray skin. Its features were hard, chiseled like a flying statue. It furled its bat-like wings as it crossed its muscular arms. A strip of blackened leather tied up its crude dark pants that disintegrated just below its knees. Its feet looked like thick talons, with short, cruel looking claws at their tips. The thing was all angles.

Bill fell backwards over Tom as he tried to back away. The beast moved forward and leaned in as if to speak to him. Bill would have cried out if the shock hadn't stolen his voice.

The monster's face was long, much like a human's but more sinister. Its eyes were large, dark, perceptive. It had long hair that was pulled back and tied behind its head, its ears were long and pointed.

The beast studied him for a minute, arms folded over its muscular chest seeming to sniff the air. Satisfied, it stood erect again, which was when Bill noticed its knees bent backwards like a bird's.

“I would assume that you are all that is left of your crew,” it said.

Its voice was deep, gravely, and filled with the wisdom that only centuries of living could provide.

Bill didn't know what to say. He was so stunned by the fact that it spoke, he failed to comprehend what it said.

The beast looked up and off into the jungle. “There's only these three?”

“Yes,” came another gravelly voice, this one slightly higher than the first. Bill turned to find another monster of equal size standing behind him. “I searched the wreckage, but the only others I found died of their wounds.”

“A shame,” the first creature looked back down at the cowering Bill. “I'm sure he'll want to see you anyways.”

“We should take them soon,” the second said. “Two of them look on the verge of dying themselves.”

“He'll be able to heal you,” said the first. “And I imagine he will have work for you as well.”

Bill didn't have the courage to oppose the idea. He didn't know who it was they were referring to. And though he didn't much like being indentured to a stranger that sent giant bat creatures to fetch him, their presence drove him to keep his mouth shut.

The first beast reached for him with large hands and claw-like fingers. Bill made an effort to escape but it did him no good.

“Don't struggle,” it said as it lifted him up. “This is awkward enough as it is.”

It turned Bill around and wrapped its arms around his chest. Clutching Bill's arms in its claws, it unfurled its wings. Bill could see the other hauling Tom and Clive as it lifted off the ground effortlessly. They followed shortly after, and soon were flying over the lush canopy of the ocean side jungle.

It didn't take them long, however, before they came to much darker territory. The jungle had been slashed and burned for as far as the eye could see. Black smoke rose in the distance as they passed over dark figures working among the remains of the forest.

They continued onward, passing over camps that spread for miles. Rough, terrible structures built as if inspired by a necromancer's skeletal nightmares. The fires of a hundred kilns burned hot, their locations given away by the thick smoke that drifted out of the low huts that contained them. Bill wasn't sure if he felt more sick from the flying or the stench that rose to his nostrils.

Soon the monster carrying Tom started making its descent towards a tall cluster of mud huts lined with jagged sticks and stones. Before Bill knew it, he too was making his way down, his stomach churning as he saw rows and rows of people in cages. They looked like animals, their clothes rotting off their bodies as they pressed against the wooden bars attempting to get a better look at the newcomers.

Not like this
, he thought to himself.
I don't want to end up like this.

They landed in front of what was comparatively a huge structure in the center of the camp. Four monsters of a different kind stood watch at its entrance, holding large spears that looked like they had jagged meat cleavers at their ends.

The beasts themselves were hunched over, not more than four or five feet tall, and black as night. Their humped backs were scaly, like a turtle's shell with knobs protruding at all angles. Their faces were almost set in their shoulders, reptilian and grotesque. Massive arms, tiny legs, and so black they appeared to trap and absorb any light unfortunate enough to pass by.

If they recognized the creatures that carried the humans, they didn't show it. They may as well have been invisible as the monster put him down and made him walk between the guards. The hunched beasts sniffed the air, but otherwise showed no interest. The doors were covered in cruel runes and symbols, most of them foreign to Bill. The few that weren't foreign made him shudder. This was a dark place.

It took a moment for Bill's eyes to adjust to the darkness within. More of the massive beasts stood in the dark hallway on either side, their reptilian tongues licking scaly faces as they held their staffs. It looked like they were waiting for something. Bill had yet to see any more of the winged creatures.

A short scrawny thing scurried out of a door down the hall and came hustling towards them. It waved its hands and squawked at the winged creature carrying Tom.

The creature squawked back, it sounded like the same language to Bill but it may as well have been meaningless gibberish. Finally the winged beast turned and faced Bill and his captor.

“Stupid little thing says he's not to be bothered with half dead pirates.”

“Pirates?” Bill bristled at the term.

The beast ignored him. “He said to take them to the witch doctor and wait until they're well before we make introductions.”

“Makes sense I suppose. Either way, they won't be our problem anymore if we dump them on the witch doctor.”

“True enough.”

“ Did he tell you to find others?”

“He said three isn't acceptable.”

“You told hi–”

“Yes I told him but he doesn't care.”

Bill wanted to protest; to say something. Anything. But he had no idea what was going on and didn't feel like he was on the verge of understanding. He was turned and ushered back out between the hunched black creatures and their massive arms. He wondered if they could even run on those short little legs they stood on.

The sunlight was blinding in spite of the smog that seemed to cover the area. He was grabbed by the shoulders and turned up a long street lined with cages. He hesitated, his legs not wanting to carry him any further. The creature behind him would have none of it and pushed him onward. They made their way through the mud and filth that filled the street, humans filling the cages on either side. These looked as bad as those he had seen from the air, but from up close, it was revolting.

No one tried to reach out to them. Rather they cowered in fear of the monstrous guards. He wondered what this place was, if it was where the slaves they had purchased in the past came from. He hoped he wouldn't end up in one of those cages. They looked like they were made from a combination of large sticks and bones. Bill swallowed hard, not wanting to know where the bones had come from.

Soon they came to another low hut at the end of the rows of cages and were turned inside. A little old man covered in tattoos and piercings waited inside. His bloodstained apron looked almost as old as he did.

“What have you brought me today, my fine Titans?” He rubbed his palms together as if anticipating a treat.

“Just some shipwrecked pirates.”

Bill didn't hear the slight. He was caught on the word: Titans.

“Not the ones we were supposed to trade with today?”

“The same.” The other Titan put Tom and Clive down on filthy beds to the side of the room.

“Aww.” The witch doctor seemed displeased. “And all you have to present to his Excellency are these three peasants?”

“So it would seem,” the larger Titan said. “He can be happy he got any at all. Their ship was torn to shreds by his precious lizards.”

The witch doctor looked aghast at the Titan.

“You ought to watch your mouth. He hears more than you know and demands respect.”

“We don't much care what he demands.” The Titans didn't seem to share the common fear of whoever it was they were referring to. “We'll be back in a few days to collect them when you're done.”

And with that they ducked out of the building and took flight.

Titans,
Bill thought to himself.
Real, honest to God Titans...

“Well then,” the witch doctor said as he produced a wicked looking instrument from the folds of his apron. “Let's have a look at you.”

A
LISIA AND THE
man she called Caspian walked arm in arm down the beach as the waves continued to roll in. He was tall, and in spite of the flowing, elegant robes that he wore she could tell how thin he was. His white hair and beard were short, well groomed, and framed his face like a king's. Or at least how she imagined a king's face would be framed.

He frowned as she recounted her story, telling of the warning she'd received from her mother in a vision that men would be looking for her. How those men had burned her adoptive home and killed Charsi.

She told of her escape and endless running from Khrone's Hunters, and how a strange boy had come to her rescue when she thought all was lost. She teared up at the mention of Ardin, and went on to explain how he had stuck by her, how they had barely escaped the Hunters multiple times, and how they had hoped to find safety in Brenton.