The Vitalis Chronicles: White Shores (43 page)

Ardin called her name with all the force he could muster, but it was caught by the wind and torn to shreds by the rain.

He turned and sprinted for the fork. Rounding it heedlessly, he flew down the trail. The storm grew in intensity, lighting striking the rocks above and sending them tumbling down around him. He formed a shield from the Atmosphere thoughtlessly, acting entirely on instinct as the adrenaline began to block out reason.

Terrible thoughts, dark and wretched, filled his mind. What if he didn't make it in time? What if she was already dead? 'What if' after 'what if' filled his thoughts to the point that he felt his head might physically burst. He shoved them aside, nearly tripping and falling a number of times as he lost focus. He heard his name on the wind again, more desperate, more shrill. He was coming! He wanted her to know he was coming!

What if she died never knowing he had come for her? Never knowing that he would have died for her? The idea almost made him wretch, the knot in his throat threatening to choke him as he stumbled into the water. The path had led him down a long, long ways. He suddenly found himself with nowhere to go but into the salty water. It was guided up to the path by a steep ravine that seemed to jump from the earth like twin blades. He thrashed into the shocking cold, not knowing where else to go.

He kept on, flailing as much in his heart as he was in pushing his way through the knee deep water. It was freezing, but he paid no heed. The magic welled up inside of him, keeping his body warm. He pushed on until the water reached his waist. Then he rounded a corner and saw them. They were a stone's throw away on a huge rock slab. It rose from the water like a platform in the midst of dozens of huge, jagged pillars.

He screamed, the sound of his voice lost in the waves and the rain. She was lying on the stone, covering her face as if she had been struck; absolutely motionless. The general knelt next to her, touching her gently as he talked to himself.

Ardin threw himself forward, screaming and screaming and screaming. Anything he could do to gain the man's attention. Anything he could do to save Alisia from what was coming. He thought of what had happened to Charsi and screamed some more. His mind went blank with rage and fear. The magic pulled him in a million directions, threatening to leave his control as his loss of focus warred with his adrenaline.

The water got deeper, so deep he could barely move as his clothes sought to drag him under. The rocks got more slippery and jagged, impeding his movement and making swimming that much more dangerous as the tide tossed him about.

He didn't care. He swam hard, kicking rocks and opening gashes on his shins under the water. And then the general lowered himself to both knees, long cloak spread out behind him. He raised his arms wide and looked to heaven, a slender black object in his hand. The object glowed, red runes appearing bright on the handle and blade. Blade! It was a knife!

And just as suddenly as the runes had come to life, so the Shadow King brought his hands together and plunged the blade into the chest of the girl on the rock. Ardin's heart stopped. He couldn't swim as his eyes grew wide and his world shattered.

Alisia screamed such a strange, other-worldly scream. The sound threatened to tear his heart from its place through his throat. Suddenly the white mist, glowing and bright flared out of her body only to be captured by the knife and funneled into its wielder.

The general breathed it in, and was struck rigid by its intrusion. It poured into him, filling him and surrounding him all at once. Her back arched as the last of the mist flowed free, and then she lay still again in the renewed darkness.

Ardin began swimming again, frantic, dying inside with every stroke. It was all he could do to stop from choking on the salty water as he wailed involuntarily. He felt like his chest would split from the combined effort and heartache.

He reached the rock and began pulling himself up out of the water, breathing heavily from the strain, cold muscles slow to respond. The climb wasn't long, the stone not standing much higher from the water than he was tall, but it felt like he was trying to scale a mountain. Finally he pulled himself up and over, sopping wet, weeping uncontrollably. The general was gone.

Alisia lay on the ground, blood pooled under her. The wound in her chest gaped in dark contrast to her lightly colored blouse. He moved quickly, uncertain of what to do, and leaned over her to protect her from the rain.

Her eyes opened slowly as he put her head in his lap, cradling her as he tried to control his weeping.

“Ardin,” she said weakly.

Oh God,
he prayed silently.
Don't let her die, not now.

“I'm here,” he said as he brushed the wet hair from her face. “I'm here.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” he said as he held her face. “Please, don't be.”

“I just... I wanted to tell you how I felt.”

“I did too.”

“I... I couldn't...” she could barely breathe, each word taking a full sentence's effort. “I wanted to, but I didn't know how.”

He choked back his tears as he realized she was crying too.

“God, how I love you Alisia,” he said quietly to her. “I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I don't blame you for this.”

She shuddered in his arms, broken body frail and light. He brushed her face again, desperate to keep her with him but unable to stave off death's advance. He simply held her; hoping, wishing the magic would make its appearance yet knowing it could do nothing to save her now.

“Please don't go,” he begged.

“I don't want to,” she whimpered. “Ardin, I don't want to go. Please. Don't let me go.” She burst into weak tears, inconsolable as he cradled her closer. “Don't let me go...”

A gentle golden light drew his attention to her legs. Her feet were beginning to disintegrate and float away in bright silver and blue sparks.

“Oh God,” he said as he looked back into her face. “Don't go.”

“Ardin,” she said, the last of her strength waning, her legs slowly vanishing.

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

Hot tears streamed down his face, fighting the bitter cold of the rain as it soaked his hair. He leaned down slowly, unwilling to close his eyes as if doing so would make it real. She lifted her chin weakly, her lips pursing slowly in an effort to kiss him. He fought back a sob as his throat twisted again, and leaned in to kiss her back.

But he never got the chance. Her body disintegrated in his hands, disappearing and leaving him holding nothing but wet air as the glistening bits of ether drifted steadily into the misted darkness above. He watched her go and sat there for a long time crying, staring into the falling sky and wishing she would come back to him.

A
RDIN FOUND IT
hard to move. He tried to get up once but the effort caused him to fall to pieces. Months of anguish found their release as he broke down in the rain and pounded the stone with his fists. It hurt worse than anything had ever hurt before. He felt like his ribs might crack and shoot out of his chest from the strain of his sorrow.

He put his head on the cold ground and yelled with closed eyes between the sobs. He had failed her and now she was gone. Gone forever.

His hand rested on her Uriquim, glowing gently with her mother's light. He couldn't bear to look at it. And yet all he could do was stare into its glowing depths.

Finally he pulled himself up, sopping wet and beyond exhausted. He was cold, and though he hadn't eaten in some time, he had no appetite. He couldn't imagine eating anything now. Food would never hold an appeal again.

He started walking up the path that ran from the platform, his world dead and scattered to the stars. The walk all the way back up the mountain seemed long enough to begin with, now he didn't know that he would ever make it. His legs felt like lead, each step more impossible to complete than the last.

Ardin fell into a fog; he had lost all sense of reality in those few moments. He didn't have anyone, he was truly alone. His throat hurt from crying, his tears spent, he just wanted to lie down. To forget the world. To pass on from it.

The hours passed with the path underneath him, and finally he found himself outside of Tertian's home. He tried to straighten his clothes but it was no use. What would he tell the Mage? How could he break news like this to anyone?

T
ERTIAN STOOD JUST
inside in the main hall of his expansive home. He poured himself a glass of the deep gold liquid he loved so much. An ornate square bottle of it stood on a low table. He smiled as he drank it. It would be a sad day when he ran out; so far it had proved the best he had ever made. He swirled the drink, staring with a vague sense of enchantment as the liquid captured the passing light and twisted it into a sparkling whirlpool. He took another short sip and lowered the glass.

“I would be very cautious if I were you,” Tertian said to no one, still facing the wall. “Your hunger for power should be more pronounced now, I imagine.”

The Shadow King materialized between the pillars behind him, black knife sheathed in his hand. His breathing was shallow, as if he had just run a marathon.

“I would fight the temptation to strike me, if you can.”

The Shadow King stared at the Mage, lethal eyes glaring out from under lowered brow. Tense, taut, contemplating his options.

“Besides,” Tertian said as he took another drink. “Your new-found power makes you vulnerable. I can see it in you, you don't know how to use it; you have no control over it. It threatens to undo you.”

“You who are so wise,” the Shade spat.

“Yes, well you owe me a lot, don't you?”

The Shade looked at the knife, its runes cold and black, then back at the Mage.

“That has yet to be seen.”

“Don't blame me for your inability to seek out and complete your own goals,” he said sternly as he put the glass down and turned to face the Shade. “I merely gave you the tools; that is all I ever said I would do.”

“The girl, she didn't have enough.”

“Of course not! She was just a girl! You were supposed to take Charsi's power. Without that, you'll never have enough to pull your precious Shadow back into the physical world! Even if I were to help you, we wouldn't have enough strength without Charsi or Caspian's strength added to the mix!”

Tertian turned away and walked towards the large fireplace that was blazing in spite of the late summer warmth.

“You'll have to search for others,” he said. “I'm sure they exist, at least a few must have escaped the Purge.”

“I've told you.” The Shade followed. “The old man was the last of your kind.”

“Nonsense.” The Mage waved his assumptions away. “Your wife survived, others could have as well.”

The memory of his wife cut the Shade deep.

“She survived only because I was there to protect her, and only so far as I was around.”

“Yes,” Tertian stared into the fire. “Well don't pat yourself too heartily on the back, I survived without your help. Others may have as well.” He turned back to the Shade, studying him momentarily before extending his hand palm up. “You've had your chance,” he said. “Perhaps someday I will make it available to you again, but there's no point in letting you traipse around with something so precious when you can't seem to make proper use of it.”

The Shade held the knife up, studying it, unwilling to let it go. He smiled, and in one smooth motion he had the sheath off and was lunging for the Mage.

Tertian flicked his wrist, batting the Shade to the floor without any apparent effort. The knife clattered across the floor, sliding to a stop near Tertian's feet. He twirled his hand quickly and brought it down, an invisible hammer splitting the floor where the Shade had been. But the Shadow King was quicker to vanish, leaving the knife where it had fallen.

The Mage scanned the room. The Shade was gone so far as he could sense. He spat in derision, the attempted betrayal bitter in his mouth. Collecting the knife, he sheathed it and placed it gingerly in his robes.

He stared at the cleft he had struck in the floor, mouth straightening as his brow furrowed. He brought his hands in front of himself, moving them smoothly in the air over the damaged stone as it shifted, melted, and cooled back in place.

Ardin hid in the shadows. He had seen and heard everything. At first thinking to leap to his host's rescue, he had stopped when they had broken out into what sounded like a conversation. He was stunned to see the general appear out of nowhere. So he was the Shadow King...

Now he stood in the shadows, watching the Mage mend the floor, his magic working to shield him from detection. He didn't know what to do, but he wanted answers. Wanted revenge.

The Shade was gone, but he was only the tool. Of that Ardin was now certain. He had never been so certain of anything in his life, save that he wanted to avenge Alisia's death right then and there. He called up the magic, bringing it to the surface and letting it build up in his arms until he could no longer contain it.

And then he stepped from the shadows.

He was met with the full force of the Mage's wrath, blasting him to the ground like an artillery shell. His mind swirled, the magic dispersing instantly from his control. He tried to get up but was struck again by another invisible blow and sent sprawling along the smooth floors until he was stopped abruptly by a pillar.

He grunted at the impact and groaned as he rolled over to face his attacker.

“I'm afraid you're not nearly as strong as you ought to be,” Tertian said as he pulled Ardin from the floor with an invisible hand and held him against the pillar. “Nor as subtle.”

Ardin struggled but it was no use. He was pinned. The Mage as strong and stronger than he had been able to see.

“You bastard!” he tried to yell, but found his throat constricted in response.

“Let's not regress to vulgarity,” the Mage said as he reached into his robes, producing the rune covered black rod. “Thankfully that fool never recognized all you inherited or he may have done something horrible to you. And we wouldn't want that.”