by Jay Swanson
“Do you know who I am?” Ardin shouted, quivering as he stood.
“Should I?” The Shadow King brushed the dust from his pants as he regained his balance.
“Yes!” The response made Ardin convulse with rage. “You murdered my family. In cold blood!”
“I've killed lots of families lately, boy. You'll have to be more spec–”
“LEVANTON!” Ardin shouted. “I'm from Levanton! You took everything from me! Since that day... since that day, all I've wanted was to kill you.”
“I'm sorry you'll never get the chance then,” the Shadow King said as he lifted a hand and shot a burst of flame at the boy. That should put an end to this nonsense.
The boy, however, appeared walking through the fire, brushing it aside like he might a puff of dust.
“What the he–” But the Shadow King never finished the sentence as an invisible wall blasted him back into the Gates. He slumped to the ground, ears ringing, mind racing. Who the hell is this kid? Not knowing who was attacking him brought back his hated enemy. Fear.
“And you killed the woman I love.” The boy's voice had grown frightfully quiet as he kept moving forward. “For that I owe you tenfold.”
Before the Shadow King could do anything the boy's hand shot out. He could feel the grip on him as he was picked up and launched into the air.
Ardin smiled as the silver-haired man flew back down the bridge, but he disappeared just before impact. The Shadow King reappeared as from a mist, walking towards him with his brow furrowed. There were fewer tears in his armor, fewer bruises on his face.
“Luckily for me, falls don't tend to hurt that much,” the Shade yelled so Ardin could hear him.
Ardin smiled. The idea of making a fight of this sounded good enough to him. He started towards the Shade, running to match his opponent's speed.
The boy sent out a shockwave so violent it stripped the top inch of granite off the bridge. The Shadow King made the jump just in time, feeling the disturbance in the Atmosphere roll past him like thunder. Whoever this kid was, underestimating him had been a massive mistake.
The Shade reappeared behind the boy, swinging his blade at the crux of his neck. But the kid was faster. As if he could see with the back of his head, he spun, bringing his own sword to bear in time to block the blow.
“Who are you?” the Shadow King asked as they pressed into each other; feet sliding and shifting in the dust. And then it came to him. “The boy from the Cave...”
“My name,” Ardin's grimace grew to a grizzly grin. “Is Ardin Vitalis.”
Another shockwave hit the Shade before he could react. It sent him sprawling and sliding along the bridge until he stopped ten yards from the Gates. He picked himself up, groaning. He was tired.
“It's too late, Ardin,” he said as the boy came running again. “What's done is done. There's no stopping it now.”
“Maybe not,” he could just barely hear the boy called Ardin say as he closed the gap. “But I can still put an end to you.”
The boy launched himself in the air. How it was possible for some boy to do all of this was beyond the Shadow King. He made the jump as the boy's blade swept through where his chest had been. He jumped back quickly this time, bringing his elbow around and connecting with the back of the boy's head.
Ardin reeled, dodging the sword he knew was sure to follow. He spun and kicked up, but the Shade moved back. The long, elegant sword swept down, and Ardin barely got his own blade up in time. He swept the Shadow King's blade away and brought his own around, but the Shade was faster. He knocked Ardin's sword down and kicked, sending him back into the Gates.
“You can't beat me, boy.” The Shadow King smiled. “I've fought plenty like you and have not a scratch to show for it.” He looked at his ragged armor before shrugging. “At least, I won't in an hour's time.”
Ardin growled as he sat up. “You've fought no one like me.”
Before the Shadow King knew it, he was sliding along the bridge again, ears ringing. The kid was right; he'd never fought anyone like this before. He got up as a tight blast of fire flew past, catching him in the shoulder and spinning him in a swirl of smoke. He was getting tired of this.
The boy was coming at him again. Let him. The Shadow King dashed forward, closing the gap and making the jump as another wave of energy rolled through. He came back in front of the boy, raining down steel. Let's see if you know your swordplay.
To the Shade's apparent surprise, Ardin kept up well enough. He backed up initially, the shock of seeing the Shade jump in and out of existence unnerving him as he sought to sense his every move. But the warmth was coursing through him now. Strengthening him. Heightening his senses. Feeding off his rage. He knew he could best the old bastard, the certainty made him grin.
The black and gray warriors danced around each other on the bridge at the End of the World. Steel rang off steel as the enchanted blades met over and over. The Shadow King maintained the attack, for his was the superior skill. But Ardin had fought fewer battles that day, and kept up well enough with the Shade.
“That's it, boy.” The Shadow King's frustration hit a peak. “Time to end this.”
And with no further warning, the Shade disappeared again. He reappeared behind Ardin, swinging his blade. Ardin blocked as quickly as he could, but no sooner had he done so than the Shade disappeared again. He reappeared from a haze to Ardin's left, thrusting his long blade towards his midsection. Ardin managed to deflect the blow, but before he knew it, he was defending himself from another to his right.
Around and around and around they went as the mountain shuddered in sporadic intervals. The Shade jumped in and out of the physical, moving from one side to the other, keeping the boy off balance, coming closer to drawing blood with each strike. Soon the kid would trip. Soon, it would all be over. He hadn't had to struggle like this in ages, but he needed to win this fight. His last fight.
Ardin's spiderweb of enchantments did their best to forewarn him of the Shadow King's presence. But the Shade came and went so quickly he could barely keep it all straight. His mind swirled like the white mists around his feet. He was getting dizzy and beginning to tire.
He hefted his sword over his head, then swung it down to his right, then brought it around to his left. Each time he parried, each time his enemy disappeared, each time he came from a new angle. Cuts opened on Ardin's shoulders and legs. The gashes in his leather armor told a similar story. He was losing. Even if slowly, he was losing.
He tried to send out more shockwaves. Tried to burn the Shade. Tried to trap him in ethereal tendrils and cut him with invisible blades. But the Shadow King was too quick, and Ardin couldn't touch him when he jumped.
He stumbled as a cut opened up on the back of his leg. Screaming, he dove and rolled towards the edge of the bridge. He parried left, blocked right, and swung his sword in an arc to keep his enemy at bay. And then he remembered Charsi. Remembered how she had held him in the Cave. How she had held Silvers the same way. How he couldn't escape.
His mind raced as he tried to think of what to do. He spun to face the center of the bridge. Not the physical. His eyes broadened at the realization. Strike the metaphysical. Ducking under a broad cut, he sent out a thousand invisible spikes into the Atmosphere. They stuck. He could feel it. He brought his sword around and thrust it up behind him.
The Shadow King stood motionless over his prey, heels at the edge of the bridge. He quivered, impaled on a dozen invisible blades and one very visible. Blood trickled down Caspian's steel as Ardin looked back with disbelieving eyes. He shoved the sword up higher, grating deeper into the Shade's chest before he dragged it down and free. He could feel the spikes come back to him as the life left his enemy.
The mountain shuddered again as the Shadow King lost his balance. His eyes gaped wide as his body fell slowly back. His hands opened, and the legendary sword rattled on the bridge as he tilted and fell. Ardin knelt on the stone as he watched the black-armored figure of the King of the S
hades fall silently into the mists. His cape whipped and cracked as the swirling darkness reached for him, and then he was gone.
Ardin swallowed air like he had never breathed. He choked and coughed and swore. And then he stared silently over the edge. He couldn't believe it. He was gone. Just like that. It was over. He looked down at his cuts. Despite how minor they looked, he had come closer to dying there than he ever had before. He knew it. He focused the warmth on the wounds, willing them closed.
The mountain shook again, rattling the Shadow King's blade on the granite. Ardin took a moment from healing to reach for it. It was surprisingly light for how long it was. The curved gray steel was sharp enough to cut at the lightest contact. He rolled it in his hands for a moment, testing the balance. Appreciating the craftsmanship. It was a truly beautiful sword, he had never seen anything like it. And then it wavered and vanished.
Ardin got up with a start. His heart raced as he looked around, but there was nothing to be seen. No enemies at hand. The mountain shook more violently, dislodging boulders and sending them tumbling into the chasm of the abyss.
And then he heard something different. The noise of a thousand tortured screams came whirling up from the abyss as from one throat. He shuddered at the sound, but his curiosity won out. Ardin walked back to the edge of the bridge, placing his foot carefully at the lip before he leaned forward to look. Something rushed past him as he did, throwing him off balance as he backed away. A small black cloud of writhing energy rushed towards the sky, wailing as it went. He watched it circle slowly in the air as if searching for something.
Then it stopped suddenly, as if seeing him for the first time.
Ardin Vitalis watched with wide eyes as the black mist rushed down and poured into him. He fell back as it did so, throwing his arms up and fighting vainly to keep it at bay. But all he could do was scream as the world turned to shadow and fog.
COMING SOON
THE CONCLUSION TO THE VITALIS CHRONICLES TRILOGY
STEPS OF KRAKADOR
BY JAY SWANSON
VISIT WWW.VITALISCHRONICLES.COM NOW
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Thanks for reading Tomb of the Relequim! I hope you enjoyed it and are dying to read Steps of Krakador, the third and final book in the Vitalis Chronicles trilogy. A lot of people ask me how far this is going, and I wanted to let you know now that this trilogy is only the beginning. The stories from Veria, Grandia, Trauncia, and the rest are just getting started. Even some of the characters in this book will get their own moment to shine, particularly the Shadow King, Cid, and the Elder Magi. Not to mention Khrone's Hunters. Whether it's the history of the Old Guard or the retelling of the Purge, there will be many stories to come.
But this is just the launching point for a much bigger, broader story. The history of this world is just about to unfold, and I can't wait to get it all to you!
Please leave a review on Amazon, a comment on my blog, and join my newsletter to be the first to know when Steps of Krakador is released!
Thanks again!
-Jay (@jayonaboat on Twitter)
www.jayswanson.me
www.vitalischronicles.com
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
No book ever makes it to print without a lot of help along the way. At least, that's the impression I'm under. I owe a lot of thanks to a lot of people, but I should start with Nils, Jeff, Peter, Rob, Shelby, Jenna, and Caleb who have the honor of reading my work first, and the duty of telling me just what exactly is wrong with it.
Jenna, of course, edits it as well - which is a massive and amazing undertaking - and then Ali did a fantastic job of proofing. There's a reason they deserve a dedication along the way, largely because they help hide my faults from the rest of you.
Dan was indispensable as a military consultant with his background in Special Forces, and his input will be seen even more in Steps of Krakador. My buddy Sam gave me some fantastic feedback as well, and has found himself destined to join the above group of beta readers.
Sam Spratt did a wonderful job with the cover art. He was very quick clean and professional, which was exactly what I needed at the time.
But producing a second book wouldn't have been possible without the number of people who have championed White Shores over the last year. I've been thoroughly surprised by how many people have not only enjoyed the book, but actually loved it enough to share it! To them I owe the biggest thanks (though sadly the most ambiguous), because without your love for Ardin, Anders, Cid and the rest, these books wouldn't be going anywhere. It's in the darker moments that your love for my books (and constant harassment about the release date) keep me going.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the conclusion when it arrives.
ABOUT ME (IN MY OWN WORDS)
I’ve been telling stories ever since I was a kid. Whether it was writing myself into fantastical battles with my friend John in my grandmother’s basement or telling my parents tall tales about exploding squirrels, I’ve always told stories. I wrote my first play when I was in first grade. We actually produced it and I found the tape a few years back to prove it. Man was it awesome. I mean, you probably wouldn’t like it, but there were dragons and I was a prince and there was a princess to save… who doesn’t want that to happen in real life?
I mean honestly, that’s why I write. I do it because there’s a part of me that yearns for something more than what I can see; what is available to me on a daily basis. I want to be a part of a grand adventure where I’m the hero and just make it through by the skin of my teeth. The real-life situations where that happens are never so glorious as to provide the kind of satisfaction my stories can.
And so I write. Isn’t that why we read? To escape, to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes and see the world through their eyes? We’re all looking to live vicariously through someone else (except for the rare few among us who might actually be content with life). Perhaps we just like to be entertained, but there’s something much deeper and more real in a good book than simple entertainment. We extend ourselves into and through the words to become something greater than we already were. Good books can change us.
I don’t know that my own work is good enough to change people, but I know it was good enough to change me.
The contents of this eBook are under Copyright © 2012 Jay Swanson All Rights Reserved
ISBN #978-0-9834699-2-6
http://jayswanson.me
