Underground Ring: Book 1

by M. M. Reid

  “No,” I said quickly, nearly interrupting him. The feeling of cold was beginning to become more potent. Something was getting closer and I couldn’t risk being by myself in a place I didn’t know.

  Though hidden well, I could sense Trosian’s temper flare for a moment before he said between his teeth, “Follow me.”

  “What about him?” Lee interrupted.

  “Me?” Ben squeaked. I had nearly forgotten he was there.

  “Yeah, you.” Lee became more confident, puffing out his chest as he approached Ben. “No orphans allowed, kid. Mystics only.”

  “Mystics?”

  “Yes, Mystics.” Lee was becoming more aggressive with every step. “That doesn’t mean you, so get out of here.”

  There was a brief sadness behind Ben’s green eyes that betrayed his insecurity over that word: orphan. He was unusually skinny and frail and he did wear similar garb to the other two, but his clothes were older and dirty as if he had found them in one of the silver garbage cans near us. I didn’t know what orphan truly meant, but I could tell one thing—Ben was alone.

  Suddenly, my hand instinctively slapped hard onto Lee’s shoulder. He stiffened and froze, like a rabbit that had just realized it had been caught. “Leave him.”

  “Let’s go!” Trosian called as he began to travel deeper into the labyrinth of the alleyways.

  He was right. We didn’t have much time. The fear began to creep up my spine like vines as the dark Vitae became more and more corporeal with each passing second. They were coming, as we sprinted down the alley like mice scurrying to the safety of our hole in the wall. The bricks of adjacent houses all began to blend together and look so similar that I could barely understand how Trosian knew where he was as we veered to the left, then right, then another left. The chills, however, did not cease as the light of the sun began to fade completely. Dim lights flickered to life, the hot steam of my breath the only answer to the cold. Much as Lee had foretold, the feeling began to multiply as the whole city began to become alive with a monstrous Vitae that sucked the life from the air.

  Trosian skidded to a halt in front of a crude, rusted metal door, quickly reaching deep into his jacket to fish out something to open it.

  “What the hell is going on?” Ben huffed and puffed beside us.

  “Shut up, orphan, or you’ll get us all killed.” Lee said, pivoting about, checking each and every avenue our enemy could take.

  The door creaked open and we all slid in, the blast of heat sweeping over us. Two more flights of stairs later, we came to an old wooden door: number 73. Trosian fumbled around again with the keys. The place smelled of burnt wood and piss, the doors were missing most of their numbers, and the paint on the walls was scratched and marred as if a wild animal had ripped its way through.

  The bachelor apartment was small, barely large enough to fit a desk, couch, and a bed. Making matters worse, pizza boxes and empty containers of food were scattered around, making it difficult to walk without stepping on something. The two new Mystics went straight to work, throwing some clothes and supplies into duffel bags that had been set on the bed. Random papers were scattered about on the coffee table.

  “Gross,” Ben said, wiping moldy bread off of his shoe. “You guys actually live here?”

  “Beats the streets,” Lee retorted as he shoved some clothes into his open bag.

  I picked up one of the crumpled papers on the coffee table. It had the picture of an older man with “Missing” plastered in big, bold letters on the top of the page.

  “So, how do you know Lokus?” I asked slowly, after a moment of awkward silence.

  “He’s an old family friend,” said Lee. “Once he found out we had gifts, well, we were sent away by our uncle.”

  “We came from the city,” Trosian continued as he worked diligently.

  “Where is your uncle now?” I asked, wondering if he had already made the trek to my childhood home.

  There was an awkward silence as Trosian slung the bag over his shoulder. “Not here,” he said simply, as he peeked out of the window.

  There was a moment of quiet as Lee finished packing. This wasn’t what I completely expected of the outside world from the stories my father had told me. It was dirty, busy, and though so many people surrounded me, I had never felt so disconnected from the world around me.

  “Hey!” Ben snatched the paper right out of my hand, breaking my concentration. “I know this guy! Old Jim from the bar! He’s missing?”

  Lee put on his backpack. “Oh, he isn’t missing.” He stared right at me as he said this, as if he expected I knew his meaning.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably.

  “People have been disappearing more lately,” Trosian interjected. He spoke almost to himself as the dull, yellow light illuminated only half of his face, leaving the rest a mask of darkness. “As I Mystic, I would have expected that you would know what happens to them.”

  “I’m not exactly from around here.” My ears burned from Trosian’s off-handed comment. Ever since I had left my childhood home—the one place I wanted to get away from my entire life—all that I wanted was to run back there and away from the complexity of this unfamiliar world.

  “Most of the time, they simply disappear and we never see them again. But,” Trosian swallowed, keeping his gaze glued upon the alleyway below, his breath misting the stained glass, “Sometimes they reappear. Even if you knew the missing person, if you stumbled upon them you would realize that the person you once knew is long gone. The missing become the Shadows.”

  “Then why don’t all the Mystics band together in town and find out what’s happening to these people?” I offered this idea as if the reality was truly that simple.

  Lee adjusted his straps, looking slightly confused. “We were actually hoping you would tell us. We didn’t know Mystics or Shadows even existed until a year ago.”

  The revelation felt like a slap to the face. All of the people I asked about Mystics or Shadows looked at me as if I had three heads. This war—what if it were only between a select few? My stomach became unsettled, as if it were churning poison into my system. There were so many questions that I could not answer.

  The metal door creaked open and slammed into the side of the brick building as the four of us shuffled outside, Trosian taking the lead. I felt the chilly air stimulating my paranoid senses as we travelled in a closely-knit group, each of us silently praying we would exit the town with little disturbance.

  “This way,” Trosian said as he quickened his pace and made a sharp right, darting towards the open lot where we first met. With each turn, I half expected a small army of them to be waiting. My imagination ran wild as I pictured the Shadows to be a group of winged monsters, each carrying wicked blades that made Balmung look tame. The parking lot itself looked empty, with only trash littering its cement. But just as Trosian exited from the alley, he was suddenly ambushed, tackled by a form much larger than himself. I stopped, not registering the struggle before me; the yellow lights making it look surreal like I was in a dream.

  “Jim? What are you doing?” Ben called from right next to me, just as the older male began to push his forearm into Trosian’s throat.

  Trosian countered with a vicious knee to the groin and then brought his elbow across the old man’s face like a baseball bat. Jim was repelled by the force of the blow but did not look phased in the slightest, moving with machine-like deliberation as he hooked Trosian in the face then threw him hard against the opposite wall. Lee leapt onto the old man’s back just as he approached the stunned Trosian, but the boy couldn’t hold on as he was lifted like a toy and thrown onto the hard ground with a resounding smack. I blinked. I should help them. Why am I not helping them? I thought sluggishly as Trosian was pummeled mercilessly. My body just wouldn’t respond, as if I was removed from the scene in front of me.

  “Augrais!” Ben kicked me in the shins. “Now would be a good time to do that thing you do. You know, kick ass?”<
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  The pain snapped me from my trance and I was on the move, brushing past Ben like a screaming bullet.

  “Hey!” I cried, getting the Shadow’s attention just as I let loose a vicious roundhouse kick. The blow was true, striking my opponent right in the ribs, successfully knocking him away from the battered Trosian with a sickening crack of broken bone.

  This man, whoever he was, did not look stunned nor did he even look in pain. He merely recoiled for a moment before sluggishly striding towards me. How could he not be doubled over? I ducked under his haymaker punch and countered with an uppercut, my Vitae powering my blow. I could hear his teeth crunch together as he was lifted off of his feet, landing flat on his back. I expected a cry of agony, a groan, something to indicate that he was struck, but there was nothing other than his ragged breathing. This man, or whatever he was, merely flipped back onto his belly and slowly rose to regain his footing.

  “Augrais!” Trosian yelled from behind me.

  “Time to go!” Ben cried, as I realized that three more Shadows had turned the corner from the alleyway. They walked like Jim had—mechanically but deliberately—towards us.

  We fled, running as fast as we could as the dark streets enveloped our escape. Each of us glanced back nervously as we stuck to the darkness, scurrying our way to freedom. Adrenaline carried us all the way out of the town and back to the forest, where we finally slowed to a walking pace because of the pitch-black dark. Beams of light suddenly cut into the darkness near Trosian’s face. He looked battered, with a cut lip and a swollen eye, but had no real damage done to him. Lee and Ben were shaken but not hurt.

  None of us spoke of what had just transpired. We just wanted to put as much distance as we could between the town and us. We walked in silence for hours, until we got close to my childhood home.

  “Is this where you live, Augrais?” Ben cursed as he tripped yet again on some brush.

  A bittersweet feeling came over me as the city folk entered the domain I had lived in and trained in my entire life. This place was more my element, and represented something I understood—the struggle to survive.

  “Yep. I’ve lived here my entire life.”

  “That explains a lot.” Lee snorted with strained laughter.

  “Augrais!” Trosian interrupted. “The horizon!”

  I smelled it before I saw it. Fire. Flames licked above the tree tops and black smoke bellowed into the night sky.

  “No!” I cried and took off at a sprint to the top of the hill. It was as I feared. The forest burned. My home burned. Next to the shack, a figure in black was standing and holding a torch over my father. Father was on his knees in front of him, his head down like a puppet without its master.

  “Augrais, no!” Ben screamed, but it was too late. I rushed down over the flame-scorched terrain, charging head-on towards the bastard who wanted to watch my forest burn.

  My father is down there. I need to move faster so I can save him, I thought. The forest around me and my home were burning furiously. The smoke itself drove deep into my lungs, making it harder to breath and concentrate on my goal— getting to the man in the black cloak. I sent Vitae to my lungs and legs to gain a burst of speed, as an immolated tree fell with a loud crash, sparks and ash blinding me momentarily. The figure stepped towards my father and raised its hand to bring down upon Father for the final time. I needed to stop him!

  With all the speed I could muster, I bounded towards my enemy with the roar of a ferocious jungle cat. However, the being spun around faster than lightning and I was slapped down to the ground by its powerful forearm. The oxygen rapidly left my body. My clothes and skin hissed softly from being singed by embers and I lost focus. The smoke and fire were already sapping my energy and pushing my body to its limit. I felt the hard bite of leather against my throat as I was pulled up onto my feet, and I felt as though I might black out at that moment. I recoiled as I looked into its eyes: violet; clear; crisp; and dangerous, like a great tempest in a black sky. A chill went down my spine and curdled my stomach. A monster held me now, a monster of a Shadow.

  I attempted to summon all the energy at my disposal, but I felt it drain from me through his hand. I could feel my very being fading away.

  “Sleep now,” said his charming voice.

  I fell back into a hole of soft feathers. My body, my mind, my will, my soul all longed for sleep.

  I heard a cry of battle and saw Trosian leaping onto the man’s back. Then Lee came at him with a knife and imbedded it in him. The monster merely laughed and dropped me, weakened, to the ground.

  The man in the black cloak then turned to Lee and Trosian and grabbed them as I had been grabbed. “Sleep now,” he commanded and they fell asleep. I gave him little time to do whatever he meant to do. I barrelled my shoulder into his chest. This did nothing; I only bounced off, stunned. His foot suddenly came down upon my head, forcing me into the ground. The embers singed my face and he laughed as I screamed. Was this the end? Was I going to die? No, I wasn’t. Something large struck our foe in the chest, loosening his psychic grip on my companions and I. The demon stumbled backwards, only to be met by Lokus who was moving with a speed I had never seen before. He struck the monster in the chest three times before pelting him into another tree with a loud thud that could be heard over the burning.

  “Leave now, Demon!” cried Lokus. I felt the command in his voice. I felt his power. In his hand, Balmung was gripped tightly as if he was out in the ocean and it was his lifeline.

  The monster stopped and stood for a moment, considering his odds against the intervening Mystic. It then readied itself almost as if it wanted to pounce upon Lokus. I could feel the worry in the old man’s energy—the fear. Lee and Trosian were unconscious. Ben was too. I felt light headed. Then I noticed—no I felt—those eyes upon me. It was then that my Fire boiled up in me. I felt hate, I felt rage. If I could just stand up I would tear this monster limb from limb. But I could not move. My body was paralyzed.

  The monster vanished into the rising smoke, away from us. I screamed as I tried to pull myself to my feet to give chase. I could still sense the sickening smell of burnt flesh on my forearms. I wanted to catch it and make it pay for it what it had done! It was then that I saw him through the ash and smoke: my father lying there only a few metres away, facing me. His body was limp, like a plant that had been ripped from the ground. My tears began to fall as I used every last bit of my strength to reach out to him, as if my touch could bring him back from the dark passage he was embarking on. Like a mirror of me, so too did his arm rise up but it fell sadly short.

  “Father,” I weakly called to him, my voice squelched with smoke and ash.

  I saw him speak but I could not hear what he said as the raging fire crackled above us. He smiled then, a bittersweet smile.

  “Father!” I said again, as his hand fell limp to the ground. I struggled against the darkness of unconsciousness like a fish against the current.

  The forest faded, and I was merely floating amongst the smoke, like deep waters were suspending me from solid ground. Where was I? My thoughts came like echoes from a great cave. Was I dreaming? Was I dead? My vision slowly began to clear as the opaque clouds of grey began to dissipate. This must be a dream, I thought, as I was no longer in the forest but standing in the middle of a great room of stone. Candles had been strewn haphazardly along the walls, giving shadows to the chaotic place. Benches where people once sat were cut and broken like a tornado had just torn through this entire place. A faded and dirtied tapestry hung only by threads next to large, shattered windows. A large wooden door was in front of me, old and moldy, barely able to hold onto its hinges. My sluggish mind indicated that this place might have been an ancient place of worship that my father had once described to me. But it had clearly been long forgotten through the sands of time. As I turned about, I suddenly realized I was not alone.

  A man was hunched down with his back to me. Showing a massive display of strength, he lifted a slab of stone right fro
m the cathedral floor, revealing a dark basement below. I recognized as he turned to me that he was older than I was though I would guess he was no older than his early twenties. His blonde hair and large, emerald eyes glowed inhumanly against the waning wicks of the candles as he looked up at me. It was as if he were from another time or place. Metal enclosed him in a great suit of armor, with an enormous blade hanging from his back that looked much too large for him to carry, let alone wield. My legs suddenly gave out from under me, as if the stone he had lifted had just come crashing down upon my shoulders. A smile spread across his lips, similar to a toothy grin from a wolf that had just found a doe alone in the forest. My stomach up-heaved as the very presence of this man forced me to take a knee. What is he?

  The door behind me suddenly groaned open. I spun around to see two people, a man and a woman, walk in.

  “Run!” I tried to warn them of the emerald-eyed man, but no sound came from my mouth. They weren’t even aware that I was there, as they literally passed through me, like I was the cloud of smoke that I had been enveloped in earlier.

  As I turned back to the monster, I found he had vanished, leaving nothing but the hole from the missing stone and an altar just beyond it. I could still feel his presence though, like a deep, dark bloodstain upon a white cloth, infecting and corrupting the very fabric of this place.

  “What the hell is that?,” the woman cried, snapping my attention to where she was pointing. I could feel her fear as if it were my own, my rapid heartbeat matching hers.

  From the abyss of the hole, pale fingers grasped the ground tightly like they were worms digging out of the surface of the earth. A groan echoed through the temple as a man began to rise out from the depths below. His hair was black and dirty, like he was as old and neglected as the temple he resided in. Like a snake, he slithered and crawled out, fixating only on the people standing next to me. I instinctively took a step back but found I could not look away as the man began to rise up, his low guttural breaths coming from his parched, bleeding lips. That is when they screamed and I with them, like an echo. In a flash, the old man’s head snapped up, his eyes fixed directly on my own. His face was marred and broken, half of his face flayed as pieces of skin were torn asunder to reveal the white bone beneath. But it was those violet eyes that frightened me most. They were beautiful and dark, like a thunderstorm. Like the emerald-eyed man before him, so too did these eyes draw me in like a fly going to an electrical trap. As if he could stand it no longer, he snapped forward, running on all fours, and bounded at me like a jaguar. His dirty, broken fingers outstretched and his empty, toothless maw threatened to tear through me like I were paper. All I knew from then was black, and the tearing of my human flesh.