The Vitalis Chronicles: White Shores (39 page)

“I assure you,” it said. “We exist.”

Clive cursed as he stumbled back into the room and landed on his rear. The two giants bowed into the hut and stood stooping under the low ceiling. Tom looked aghast at the monsters. He had never seen the likes of them, he muttered. Bill's heart began to race, though he shook less this time.

“You three ready for your introduction?” asked the one.

“It's time to go,” said the other. “You're conscious; that's all he really wanted of you.”

The men obeyed, compelled by the simple fact that they were being beckoned by such immense creatures. The first ducked back outside while the other waited for them to follow. It took up the rear as they started down the path.

Clive muttered in amazement as he dusted himself off. He didn't seem scared at all to Bill, despite his wide eyes. It almost looked as though he were lost in a sense of admiration..

They began passing the rows of cages on either side again, the road less muddy this time, Bill noted. The prisoners cowered at the sight of the Titans, writhing back into their cages, pressing against one another. Animals, Bill thought. Filthy things. His revulsion, he decided, was for their pathetic whimpering and cowardice.

Then he saw a face he recognized. And another. His heart caught in his throat.

“We found a few more of your friends floating about off shore,” the Titan behind him spoke up. “None so fortunate as you, it would seem.”

They were led to the large, sagging, black building. Bill was taken aback by the spikes jutting out of its roof and higher walls. They looked as though they had been carved from raw bone. The big black creatures were still standing guard, as if they'd never moved. They simply swayed on their small legs in the breeze. They looked like they had been armored by a blacksmith who never thought the lower half necessary to protect. He briefly wondered how easily they tipped over before being brought back to his situation by the appearance of the smaller creature.

It seemed in charge, or at least its tall, bone-laced hat gave that impression. It scuttled outside, a single shock of silver hair shooting up from the front of its scalp and twisted spectacles on its broken nose. It looked like the beat up runt of a litter of weasels to Bill, though he thought it might have been a man once. Its bony knuckles wrapped around a small book that it flipped through neurotically as it tried to find something.

“Here we are,” it said, its shrill nasal sounding voice cracking as if he hadn't spoken in some time. “Take this,” it said to the Titan as it dug in its tattered cloak and pulled out a small pouch. “This should work. He's waiting.”

And with that, the scrawny little once-man disappeared back within the gaping doors that towered over them. Bill's eyes were drawn once again to the runes twisted out of scraps of metal and hammered to the tar-stained wood. His mouth went dry as he examined them. This was not a good place to be. As if to confirm the fact, a scream sounded from within and was cut off in the same breath.

They walked down the long dark hallway. High torches burned dimly as they walked past sets of looming double doors. The place reeked of tar and blood. A fresh pool had formed under one set of closed doors and Bill, try as he may to avoid it, was forced to step in the dark red liquid. He had seen blood before, plenty of it, but something about this made him want to throw up.

“Good God,” Clive muttered under his breath as he too failed to walk around the pool.

Thin wisps of smoke carried the scent of burnt flesh to their noses; the sharp smell drawing a guttural revulsion from the haze. The wailing of hopeless souls echoed down the long hall; dulled only by the dark tar that seemed to coat everything.

They came to a set of doors near the end of the hallway, nothing differentiating it from the others, but the Titans stopped.

Wordlessly one of them pushed the doors in, revealing nothing but a deeper darkness. The other Titan shoved the three men into the room and closed the doors behind them, the dull torchlight glinting off of something in his hand as he did so. Something wicked, something sharp.

None of them spoke. The empty darkness weighed on them like a lead blanket. Bill wasn't so sure he hadn't gone blind, his own breath rasping in his ears. Unable to breathe any quieter he was tempted to simply hold it.

Something sparked in the middle of the room, and again, as the Titan struck flint with his knife. Soon a small fire started to glow, casting flickering shadows around the room that worked to deceive the eye. It was a tall chamber, though narrow. As the fire grew Bill became certain that there were chains, cages, and harnesses on the walls. Everything looked like it had been spattered and splashed with blood.

But his attention was brought back to the fire as the Titan stepped closer, hand extended over the flames. Soon a thin, sparkling dust drifted from his hand and mingled with the orange tongues that lapped it up greedily. The fire grew, twisting around the dust like ivy growing around a pillar. And then with a snap and a small burst of light, they saw him.

Floating between the flames was an image. More than that, it was an apparition of some sort. He was suspended, arms spread out at awkward angles, legs hanging straight down except his left, the knee of which seemed to jut out slightly. The details were blurred, as if he was made of smoke, but he was dark, muscular, demonic. Spikes jutted out from all the places one would already expect to be pointed. Scars seemed to cover his body, but it was difficult to tell in the haze. Even in that floating image, as small as it was among the flames, he seemed massive.

Indeed, his presence filled the room and pressed upon them as if to force them out. But they were compelled to stand still, rigid, waiting.

“These are the ones we found,” one Titan said finally. There was an edge to his voice, his certainty questioned in the moment. “The ones you requested we keep separate from the others.”

The figure seemed to look up slightly. Whether or not he really did so was beyond Bill, but there was a simple sense that his gaze had shifted. A dreadful sense, as it settled on them.

“Come here,” a voice emanated from the fire: deep, calm, commanding.

It sounded guttural and yet refined all at once.

They stepped forward in unison and stopped just feet from the flames. Puppets on invisible strings in the midst of the smoke and haze.

“I care little for you or your lives,” it started. “As you have well seen by now, I hold human life in little regard. Unless it suits my purposes, I would sooner torture it and stomp it out anywhere I find it.”

It paused, seeming to regard them more closely. Bill broke out into a sweat. He could feel bony, ethereal fingers running up his body, feeling him out, sensing his very core and judging his fate. His throat constricted as his mouth went totally dry.

“Fortunately for you, I need men of your... caliber.”

“I don' work for no demons,” Clive managed to mutter under his breath.

Bill was doubly shocked. Not only was Clive able to speak, he was still to stupid to refrain from doing so.

“Don' matter how fancy the tricks.”

“I see,” the Demon's gaze shifted to Clive.

Bill felt as if a weight was lifted as the creature's focus rested on his comrade. He sighed outwardly with the passing of its pressure. But then the gaze moved back over to Tom. It was as if a physical presence was in the room moving among them, occupying space like the blaze of a lighthouse, swinging from one side to the other.

“Your friend is weak.”

And with that the focus narrowed, gripping Tom in the smoky haze and lifting him a foot off the ground. He yelped, but couldn't get any more out as he was squeezed and pressed. Bones began to crack audibly as he was crushed in front of them. There was no looking away, no matter how hard Bill tried, his focus was locked onto his best friend in his last moments.

The thing wasn't even in the room. It was just some image in the fire and yet it was powerful enough to reach out through the flames and do with them as it pleased.

There was a gurgling whimper as blood poured out of Tom's eyes and ears. Bones began to jut out and open their own wounds. There was one final series of cracks as his body was crushed, and then dropped to the floor in crumpled carnage. The gaze returned to both Bill and Clive, chills running up their spines as their hearts seemed to halt in their chests.

Bill couldn't breathe under the pressure of its attention, it felt like a physical force.

“I have a very particular task for you to complete,” the voice said as if nothing had happened, the ghostly figure in the fire never moving. “Because you do work with demons now.”

A
RDIN AND ALISIA
sat on the bow of the ship, watching the waves and the occasional, strangely intentional swings of the mast behind them. The ship was steered as if some invisible helmsman stood at the wheel. Ardin marveled as it turned them sharply on occasion, striving to miss barriers he could not see. Thankfully they never saw another of the long, blue dragons. They passed on into the ocean at an incredible speed and with no incident to slow them.

Alisia didn't share Ardin's sense of awe. Perhaps she would have had there been a greater sense of mystery to it for her. But even then, the events of the morning had so badly shaken her that she hardly noticed anything in the midst of swirling doubts. The empty sea had become a gray reminder of her loneliness. White Shores and Caspian, she could have sworn, would have been her best hope of finding safety.

Without the Elder's protection, she reasoned, there was no safe place. Even if they found Tertian, he wasn't as powerful as the old Mage. He was of the second generation. Though he too was created, not born, he was not as old and she feared probably not as wise.

And how could he protect her? As great of a fight as Caspian had put up, he was ultimately no match for the small army that assaulted his home. The idea that such an army existed caused another shiver to run down her spine. She shuddered as her stomach sank away from the thought.

“Are you cold?” Ardin asked.

She realized he'd been watching her for some time. “No. I'm fine.”

He let it go. He had learned not to press too hard when she was in these moods. Better to let her work it out herself, he figured.

The sea spray continued to jump over the bow in spurts as they cut through the waves. Ardin felt convinced they were making at least double the time that the big ship had been, though he really had no frame of reference to work from. It just seemed so fast. He wandered down into the small hull of the ship and rummaged around for some food. There was plenty of it in tall, slender cupboards carved delicately from thick pieces of a wood he didn't recognize.

The ship was deceptively large. He could stand and still had a few feet of clearance over his head. There was a table, and just through a low set of doors was a cabin with a large bed and a chair. He sighed as he looked around, knowing the old Mage had such gifts that he never thought he would learn to understand. How anyone made something like this was beyond Ardin to begin with, but it glistened with the presence of magic. In a way he felt the old man lived on through the ship.

But he hadn't learned much of anything from the Mage while they had been with him.

He looked at his face in a mirror that hung between two portholes. The bruises thinning a bit. He thought back to what lessons he had been given, but nothing seemed to apply. It was all in his imagination...

He stared at his face in the mirror and focused; imagining the bruises draining and the tissue underneath healing. He closed his mind and pictured it, feeling the warmth rise within his body. He focused on his cheeks, and as the warmth filled them he moved his thoughts to the bridge of his nose, then his forehead. Finally he broadened his focus to his whole face.

The warmth faded, drawn back into himself, into wherever it hid. He opened his eyes, and to his satisfaction the bruises were gone completely. He smiled, but knew it was a small victory. The real trick was going to be figuring out enchantments, rigging the mysterious world around him to behave and react as he wished without his direct involvement. He would work hard at it. He would master it.

He sat down at the table and started chewing on a piece of bread, dreaming up things he had never known and yet somehow knew so well.

Alisia woke to the gentle rolling of the boat, rain pattering heavily above. The sound was muffled by the thick wood of the upper deck. She rubbed her eyes, a deep sense of sadness resting on her heart that she had given up trying to understand. Things felt so bleak. She rolled out of bed, changed her clothes, and started brushing her long dark auburn hair.

Ardin had been kind enough to sleep out under the table. It didn't matter how smoothly the boat sailed through choppy waters, he was still convinced something could be thrown from its place. And so he sought the safety of the wooden canopy.

The thought made her smile. At least she had him. He had proven himself the most loyal of friends. The bitterness faded as she had forgiven him her mother's powers. He had never asked for any of this, she was realizing. He was simply being swept along in a current beyond his control, doing the best that he could with what he was given. Such was life, and if she was honest with herself, he had done well considering all that had happened.

She wondered if he would stay with her after she found Tertian. She was certain he would, where else did he have to go? But maybe he would want to find his own way, grow in his new-found powers on his own. The thought made her heart sink, realizing she didn't want to see him go.

She finished with her hair and put the brush down on the small vanity sitting next to the bed. She looked at the Uriquim, glowing gently, watching her in the rain-spattered silence. A sad smile crossed her face as she picked it up, the delicate silver chain drawing up after it slowly, reluctant to follow. The jewel had been dark for so long, had haunted her dreams. She had been so worried that it meant her mother was gone, forever. Now she had at least some assurance that she would see her again.