Chosen: Book 1 in the Ancients of Light series

by Heather Fleener

  Chosen

  Heather J. Fleener

  2nd Edition

  Copyright © 2012 by Heather Fleener

  Smashwords Edition

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Discover other titles by Heather Fleener at Ancientsoflight.com

  Cover art © 2012 Alexandria N. Thompson

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Forsaken Preview

  Acknowledgments

  CHAPTER 1

  Smoke rolled off the charred land before Lorcan, the devastation spread every direction. A once lush valley was now painted with soot and gore, a testimony to vicious war. The battle through the long night had taken its toll, the Light and the Dark both hit with heavy losses, but he and his warriors had emerged victorious. He amended… his warriors and the witches. Even those of his species that held the Witch Faction in great disdain would be hard pressed to deny that their forces had fought heroically.

  The sun beginning to crest over the horizon caused him no concern, unlike most of his kind. He continued to survey the death. The Witch that littered the ground would be taken care of by their own through magical means and no evidence of them would remain shortly. The Vampire fallen would be gone within the next hour, burned to ash by the heated rays.

  Colm, his friend and second in command, called then gaining his attention. Lorcan’s contingent was the fiercest in the Realm and the five that comprised his inner circle, the Elite Guard, were a force alone. All of his men would require shelter from the light shortly, and with the fatigue of the night weighing heavy they were eager to depart to Breslein. Lorcan acknowledged Colm with a quick nod and lingered a moment longer to bask in the rising warmth.

  Towering over six and a half feet in height, his massive form was framed by faintest reaches of the golden light. He presented the very image of a fearsome warlord. His torso was sculpted with muscle formed from wielding the massive broadsword that rode his hip, and as he started down the hillside toward the narrow stretch where his men waited, his loping stride accenting the strain of muscle against the material that encased his legs. Lorcan was a warrior of legend throughout the Realm, the Warrior of Light.

  He brushed the dark locks of hair that fell forward back from his brow in a careless gesture, making haste to join the others before the rays breached the crest of the hill. Catching Colm’s impatient wave, he shadowed the remaining distance, appearing immediately next to his friend. Lorcan’s gaze encompassed those gathered. They had lost very few and he was proud to be the leader of this group. Most he had trained either since youth in their immortality or in the years since their transition.

  Unlike certain Covens within the Vampire world, his made no distinction between those Vampire of birth and those created through transition. The creation of new Vampire by transition had been severely restricted in the last few centuries by order from the Council of Ancients, the governing forum of the Vampire nation. Several of the transitioned kind filled the ranks of his army and many of them had few equals amongst the warrior class. All would honor the fallen this night at Breslein, death made no distinction between the classes either.

  As the group made final preparations to leave, a movement within the woods about four hundred yards east of the gathering caught Lorcan’s attention and his steely gaze narrowed, hand reactively clenching at the hilt of his weapon. Two Darks lingered, taking care to stay within the shadows created by the woods. The pair seemed to have no focus on the threat posed to them by the Light warriors, but were fixated on something further within the darkness of the surrounding trees.

  Lorcan nodded his head towards them upon catching Colm’s eye, “Lead the men home, I will follow.” He shadowed immediately to the edge of the trees. Colm’s gaze followed and after registering a minimal threat called the men back to Breslein. In the space of seconds the field was empty.

  Lorcan kept the Darks within his sight, but trailed far enough behind to avoid gaining their attention. His keen hearing was still able to pick up bits of their conversation. With the magnified senses of his species he did not have to venture close; coupled with the ability to shadow silently from spot to spot, he remained undetected. The two he followed were of the Ancient Dark, the evil Faction of Vampire within the Realm. A couple of stray Dark warriors were not enough to cause him concern but the mission they carried out this early morn did. Whatever the pair was about, it had to do with the Witch. It was the only theme that flowed through the snippets of hushed conversation that reached him… “The Dark Lord’s pleasure…finding the witch…the Chosen.”

  Lorcan’s ears perked at the last. Two females had been born to the Witch four years earlier, during the year prophesied as giving rise to the Chosen and none in the Vampire kingdom had seen either child. The children were kept well hidden from both Light and Dark factions of Vampire. Per the ancient Prophecy foretold by the Sorcerer Myrrdyn, the existence of the Chosen threatened to bring end to the Dark explicitly. However, the Prophecy was also contrary to the highest law sanctioned by the Council of Ancients that forbids Vampire relations with any of the Witch species. Knowing this, the Witch trusted no Vampire with knowledge of the girls.

  The origin of the Vampire was credited to the darkest evil, birthed from the underworld in the beginning of the age of man. The sole purpose of the species was to destroy the beloved creation of humans. To counter this explicit threat to mankind, the divinely-created supernatural breed of the Witch was brought forth. The Witch were imbued with seven Castes of powers; their magic was most effective against the dark agenda pursued by the Vampire.

  Within the first century of their creation, the Vampire had split into Dark and Light factions. Over the first few hundred years of existence, the lines continued to blur and alliances formed. Certain of the Vampire breed were drawn to the Light, even while some of the Witch denied their innate calling and joined the forces of the Darks. With members of each breed swayed to the calling of the other, neither faction was able to ultimately champion its purpose.

  For nearly a thousand years, the Wit
ch and Vampire that held true to the Light had been a united force in both purpose and as kin; mating between the two species had become common. The alliance was obliterated by an act of treachery. The Ancient Queen of the Warrior Caste of Witch, Brisen, had taken an elder Vampire, Alaric, as mate. Much to the delight of the Dark, the witch was believed to have betrayed her mate’s coven and Alaric took her life.

  The resulting rift in force of the Light was not to be mended. The Vampire deemed all witches to be untrustworthy, while the Witch were adamant in proclaiming the innocence of their Warrior Queen and enraged over her murder. Today the Witch and Vampire of the Light faction maintained a tenuous truce only on the battlefield and only out of necessity against their common foe.

  A thousand years after the great betrayal, the birth of a female that would reunite the factions was foretold by the powerful Ancient Witch, Myrrdyn. She was deemed the Chosen. The girl would wield the ultimate combination of power from all seven magical Castes and end the Dark. To fulfill her destiny the witch would need to take a Vampire mate. The vampires refused to entertain the notion of a prophecy, no matter how welcomed the end result, that would forge a close alliance once more with the other species. Either Light or Dark vampires might now seek end of the girl to guarantee no Chosen witch would arise.

  Lorcan shook off his musings as he continued track the duo deep into the woods. He expected the Witch to keep the girls hidden until the extent of their powers was fully ascertained, but if these two Darks were on the trail of one of the girls he would be following steadfast. Given that Alaric and Brisen were Lorcan’s own parents, he found it ironic that he may well be on a mission to protect the Chosen. The path of the Vampire had been forced on him at this mother’s death. He had inherited Brisen’s magic, not the Vampiric lineage from his father. Alaric, as leader of the Council, had fostered a venomous hatred for all things Witch in much of the Vampire population. Lorcan did not agree with his father or the laws of the Council, but as one of the elder leaders within the Vampire covens, he tempered his objections and abided by Vampire law as well.

  Lorcan finally spotted the Darks’ prey stumbling through the woods a few hundred yards ahead – a witch. Based upon his halting gait and slow progress, Lorcan assessed the male’s injury to be serious. His hand was grasping his right flank and his steps were sluggish. He kept leaning into the trees in a failing attempt to keep himself upright. Intermittently he would pass a glance over his shoulder, to make certain his progress through the woods was unchecked and each time the Darks would easily shadow to an alternate location.

  Lorcan recognized the witch as an elder, recalling memories of the man from his youth. Elfred was a strong witch; an immortal to be reckoned with, his skills were a credit to the Warrior Caste. He also held a very high status within the Realm since he was mated to Vevila, the daughter of the great Myrrdyn. His recollection of the pair was solid, they had oft times visited his childhood home at Laverock. Vevila had been his mother’s friend. If the Dark were hunting this one, it would be no surprise if they actually were on the trail of one of the girls; all anticipated that a child in the line of Myrrdyn would have the best chance to fulfill the prophecy. The power of that Ancient’s magic was unequaled - most referred to him as the Sorcerer of Light - in deference to the magnitude of his powers which were derived from five separate Castes. Myrrdyn was a true Ancient, one of the very first Witch in creation.

  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 aff
irmation 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.