The Vitalis Chronicles: White Shores

by Jay Swanson

  BRUTUS STEPPED INTO the elevator and watched as the ornate arm rotated slowly from thirty to twenty-five. He walked out as the doors opened, the Mayor's bodyguard already scrambling to secure the floor. He couldn't see their eyes through the black-tinted shields covering their faces but he nodded to them as they hastily saluted. He didn't have to see their eyes to be able to sense their fear.

  He walked from the secure, executive elevator across the room to the public lift that would take him through the government offices and to the ground level. He turned and faced the room as the silver doors slid in place in front of him. He hoped this was all just a false alarm, but experience suggested otherwise. Merodach didn't explode like this unless things were desperate.

  Perhaps he was cracking, he hadn't left the tower in a month. Maybe this was the opportunity Brutus had been waiting for to form a coup and take over the government. It was an old thought recently brought back to life; proposed by the haggard medium he had begun to frequent lately. His ambitions had been piqued. Why wait any longer to rise to the top?

  The elevator dinged quietly as the doors slid open, their inscribed surface causing Brutus' reflection to ripple strangely as they passed over his image. He stepped into the lobby and waved off the security detail as they allowed him to leave the building. A number of officials and clerks who had been working late stared after him jealously as he claimed his freedom from the office-turned-prison.

  His long legs led him quickly down the street to a small truck that was waiting and would take him to the Guard barracks about ten blocks up. The city streets, laid out in a large circle spiraling out from the center, were packed with onlookers. Curious citizens poured out to see what all the commotion was about. The imposing city wall that flew above him to his right seemed impenetrable, even by the King of the Shades. He couldn't fly, Brutus reasoned, and even though he'd never faced one himself he figured that it couldn't just walk through walls. It would have to make its entrance where the wall was weak. A door, or a drainpipe.

  He got on the radio as he stepped into the truck and shut the door. His driver saluted and then pulled out, navigating as best he could through the crowds that were forming in the streets. Curiosity was bringing the city to life as the howling alarms sounded in the evening.

  Brutus raised the colonel in command of the Guard on the radio. He was waiting for the call. “You've got your men assembled, Ryan?”

  “Yes sir,” Colonel Ryan responded over the radio. His voice sounded tinny but deep through the box mounted under the dashboard of the truck. “Ready to roll sir, what's the situation? Because if this is another drill, you could have picked a better night sir.”

  “No drill, Colonel. Watch the insubordination,” he grumbled. He was in no mood for banter with his officers tonight.

  It was almost completely dark out, the last street lights of the large city blinking on.

  “Aye sir, your orders?”

  “You have Hunters staying with you tonight?”

  “Aye sir, just came in from the south this morning.”

  “They good for a fight?”

  “You know Khrone's sir, always ready to bloody someone's nose.”

  “Get them ready, and get them to set up their mobile shelters.”

  “Would you repeat that, sir? I thought I heard you say shelters.”

  “You heard me correctly, Ryan.” Silence came over the radio. “Ryan? You with me Colonel?”

  “Sir–” The colonel paused, gauging his next words carefully. “You're telling me there's a Shade on the way, sir?”

  Brutus noted the truck jolt a little as the eavesdropping driver over-corrected his drifting. He ignored it. “Not just any Shade, Colonel. The damned King is paying us a visit.”

  Silence again for a moment. “You're shitting me sir.”

  “Wish I was, Phil. Let's give him a royal welcome though, eh?”

  “I'll get them moving, but I doubt they've got any maintained equipment. We haven't seen a Shade since Silvers killed the... well, the King. Did you say the Shadow King is coming to–”

  “They're the same damned person, Phil. Silvers is the Shadow King.”

  “I... uh...”

  “Just get your men ready, I'll be there in five.”

  “Right sir, we'll be ready for you.”

  The radio clicked as the colonel closed his channel. The sirens on the wall started again as bright lights lit up the ramparts. They sounded long and deep in the night, resonating in the warm air as they bounced off buildings and city walls opposite a few miles away. Brutus began to sweat, the thought finally connecting to reality.

  Oblivion's Angel was descending on the city from which he had been banished. The Shadow King was coming to Elandir.

  FOURTEEN

  ARDIN'S FEET COULD best be described as sore hunks of bruised flesh attached obstinately at the ends of his legs. They barely functioned to keep him upright any more. The endless running and walking was finally catching up to him. Alisia's begrudging allowance to join her seemed like it could have well been a mistake to him now. He wondered regularly why he had wanted to come along so badly. Ignorance was all he could figure any more.

  They had walked west unmolested for a few days. It allowed them to take their time and pick through the craggy valleys that led down from the White Forests into the gorge that was home to the Rent: the largest tributary of the Elandris that flowed out of the westernmost portion of the Northern Range. It's name came from the way it seemed to cleave its way between the mountains and the highlands that ran down to meet the cliffs along the coast.

  The Rent met up with the Elandris just east of the head of the Delta, upon which sat the last major port city on the northwestern coast of the continent: Brenton. Rather, it was the last since the Peninsula had been vacated by Charsi’s wrath.

  Ardin found he enjoyed those few days in spite of the discomfort, even if his charge didn't seem to share his pleasure. He breathed easy, taking in the scents of late summer as harvest took place in the plains to the south. It brought back good memories of home. Eventually even his feet started to toughen up.

  They were a good eighty or ninety miles from Levanton by now and the hills had turned rocky, covered in tall grasses and the occasional bush or shrubby tree. They didn't really have much in the way of destination, they simply wanted to put distance between themselves and their past.

  Alisia didn’t say much, which hadn't bothered Ardin to begin with. But every silent step made him less certain of whether or not he should be there. Somehow he had hoped that she would be glad to see him, would welcome his companionship with open arms. Her reception had been less than fulfilling.

  “Where are we going?” he ventured to ask.

  She didn't bother to respond for so long that Ardin started to wonder if she had heard him.

  “White Shores,” she said finally.

  “What's in White Shores?” he asked. The name sounded somehow familiar. “I mean, I've never even heard of it.”

  “Safety... peace.”

  “Have you been there before?”

  “Once,” she said wistfully. “When I was a little girl.”

  “So it's been a while?”

  “You could say that.”

  “How are we gonna get there?”

  “I don't know.”

  Ardin rolled his eyes. This was like pulling weeds with bare hands.

  “So where are you from? I mean, where did you come from?”

  “All over.”

  “Ok... How about the Hunters? You've run into them a bunch I bet, right?”

  “Not really, they haven't been around for a long time. Not many Mages to hunt. I bet I'm the first one most of these guys have actually ever seen.”

  “Oh.”

  The sun was waning, and Ardin couldn't help but admire the beauty of the skyscape as the clouds lit up in a brilliant array of colors over the tall grasses.

  “So where did you grow up? You must have been a kid once right? Like m
e for example, I grew up in Levanton. You've been to Levanton right?”

  “Yeah, I've been there.”

  She turned down into another gorge, trees reaching up to meet them as they worked their way slowly down the rough path. Ardin let himself focus on his footing for a bit before talking again.

  “So you didn't grow up in Levanton, I could tell you that much.”

  “True enough.”

  “Brenton?”

  “No.” she almost laughed. “Not Brenton.”

  “The Peninsula? It's not too far north of here.”

  “No, I've never been there, to be honest.”

  “So where?”

  She sighed, resigned finally to the endless questions.

  “When I was little, my mother was still traveling a lot, trying to bridge the gap between humans and Magi. We visited White Shores once for a while. She was discouraged... she needed someone to give her direction. She needed wisdom.”

  “She got that in White Shores?”

  “Yes,” Alisia sighed longingly. “It's a good place.”

  “So where did you go after that?”

  “My mother, she was feared. I think that should be obvious to you by now. So much that they wanted to capture her, to imprison her, and to kill her. They were too scared to kill her in the end, they didn't know if they could withstand the release of her power.”

  “So they took her from you?”

  “No.” She paused as she thought about it. “She gave me up to protect me, at least that's what she said. I was given to members of the Old Guard for safe keeping, and they took me to the desert south of Liscentia. When they realized how poorly I was doing there, and their resources grew too thin, they decided to find a family to watch over me.”

  “Wait, that means you were around during the Purge? How long were you there? In the desert I mean.”

  “A long time. Anyways, I lived with a family for a while, and after their own children grew up and left home, we moved to the mountains. That was almost a year ago.”

  “Oh! You were living with the Lucases! The old mechanic and his wife! I remember when they moved into town. We needed a mechanic bad. They talked about having a daughter but we never saw you.”

  Ardin stopped talking when he realized she had. Alisia lost her taste for conversation at the mention of her adoptive family. She'd never told them how much she'd appreciated them.

  The gorge proved treacherous territory to navigate, and as they worked their way into it, they slowed significantly. Finally they stopped to make camp and get a good night's sleep. Alisia even made a fire to keep them warm. Ardin managed to sleep some in their small clearing between the thickly growing trees. They crowded themselves as they grew into an indent in the southern wall of the gorge. It was a nice spot, and where the Hunters caught up to them in the night.

  Alisia had heard them first, sitting up in the half light of the fire's glowing embers. Her bright eyes darted around the tiny clearing. Ardin was dozing on the other side of the fire. She wished for a moment that she'd let him sleep closer to her, but she pushed it out of her mind. She didn't need him.

  She got into a low crouch as Ardin slowly came to, and motioned silence with her finger over her lips. He couldn't see what she was looking for as she kept her back to the trees and rock wall beyond them. The foliage in this valley was surprisingly thick for all of the rugged terrain they had covered in the past two days, but it seemed to grow more plentiful the closer they got to the Rent.

  He paused, squinting the sleep from his eyes as he looked around but by the time he was able to focus, she had disappeared. Then they came, flying out of the darkness and into the little camp. Ardin was on his feet in a flash but was met as quickly with a fist to the face. He scrambled to avoid the following kick but failed, his breath refusing to return as he choked on the ground.

  “Tricky bastard,” came a voice as it planted a knee in Ardin's back and roughly tied his hands behind him. “Still can't believe a kid like this skewered Wilks. Of all the ways to go, I never figured it'd be some hillbilly runt.”

  The Hunter hoisted Ardin to his feet roughly.

  A second Hunter, sleek and dark in his tight leather armor punched Ardin in the stomach as soon as he was up. The boy buckled, but was held up by the first. The pain of his arms twisting behind his back kept him from going completely limp. How were they not dead?

  “Took us a good while to find you though, didn't it you little weasel?”

  The night sky glimmered faintly in the smooth shield that covered his eyes. It looked like it was the shape of a loose figure eight. In contrast his tight-fitting helmet barely reflected anything at all; they were almost invisible in the night. He grabbed Ardin's hair and looked straight into his eyes.

  “Gotta hand it to you for that,” he spat from behind the mask that covered his mouth. “It doesn't usually take us so long to find little whelps like you.”

  He struck Ardin squarely in the left eye as he finished the sentence, as if to add punctuation to the insult.

  “Hey now,” Ardin's captor objected. “Don't beat him up too badly, he's still gotta walk a good ways.”

  “Forget the courts.” The second stood straight to look his partner in the eye. “This kid killed a handful of us and you're gonna let it slide? Not to mention the soldiers in Levanton.”

  Ardin's stomach lurched at the thought. Somehow he felt, in this instance, justice would not fall on his side. How did they know he had anything to do with any soldiers in Levanton?

  “We don't know this is the same kid,” said his captor, as if in response to his thoughts. “Justice will be served in due course.”

  “You're so naïve, Sam, with all your idealistic bullshit.”

  “It's what we fight to protect, isn't it?”

  “Like I said.” The Hunter bowed down to look Ardin in the face again. “Naive, my pal Sam, don't you think?”

  He paused, as if waiting for a response, but got none.

  “You see?” he said, “His silence makes your idiocy out for what it is. He knows I'm not letting him walk out of here alive.”

  “C'mon Lucius,” Sam protested. “We can't just murder the kid.”

  Where was Alisia? Why wasn't she doing anything? They hadn't even turned on their MARD sticks. He could see one strapped tightly to the thigh of the Hunter in front of him.

  “It's not murder if he attacked us! He killed a handful of us before the damned witch saved his worthless corpse!”

  “That was back in the forest. It's not self defense days later, Lucius.”

  “No one would know, Sam. Untie the little bastard and let's finish him. Who's to say he didn't attack us again?”

  “You can't be serious,” Sam sounded genuinely appalled. “Just get on your wireless and let them know we found him already.”

  “No!” Lucius was vehement, venom jumped from his lips with the word. “You know he'll slip through the cracks! Even if some jury does believe he was capable of doing it, they still won't find him guilty. And if they do find him guilty, they'll slap him on the wrist out of sympathy for the way he was raised or some garbage!”

  “It doesn't matter, Lucius.”

  Sam's arms were growing tense behind Ardin's back. The soldier's grip was tightening on his bonds.

  “We swore an oath, and we'll uphold it even when it doesn't play out the way we want it to.”

  “The way it should!” Lucius yelled. “Not the way we want it to, even if that does line up with how it should go, how it needs to go!”

  “She's not with him anymore, Lucius. Just let it go!”

  Ardin could barely see the man moving as the last embers finally died in the fire, but he heard the distinct sound of a pistol being drawn from a leather holster.

  “Untie him, Sam.”

  “Lucius, I–”

  “Untie him, you bastard, or I'll do it after I empty his skull!”

  There was a moment of indecision, Ardin could feel the hesitation before Sam's grip loo
sened. He could feel him untying his hands, roughly yanking on the cords until they came free and his hands fell to his sides.

  “This is wrong, Lucius.”

  “Yeah, Sam, I suppose in some screwed up way it is. But it's all so right at the same time.”

  Ardin tried to act, tried to call up the fire that had surprised him before. He clenched his fists and tried to will it into existence, but was met with nothing save the cold reality of his situation. He looked around briefly for Alisia but could only see the silhouettes of the trees around him and the dull reflection of leather as his captors backed away from him.

  She had abandoned him.

  “The captain will see right through this, Lucius.”

  “Not if you keep your damned mouth shut, Sam.”

  “He'll be suspicious!”

  “He can keep his suspicions, damn your eyes.” He was tiring of the game. “He won't have any evidence to support them.”

  “Lucius,” Sam pleaded one last time. “Think about what you're about to do.”

  “I'm about to kill a seditious, murderous sack of guts, and in the process, do Elandir a damned favor is what I'm about to do. And you're gonna tell everyone what a goddamned hero I am when we drag his rotting corpse back to the city gates! That's what you're gonna do.”

  The hammer cocked back invisibly in the darkness

  “Lucius! Don't do it, Lucius, please.”

  Ardin focused hard, willing whatever it was within himself to come alive and rescue him, but it lay dormant. Sleeping. Apathetic. He was trapped.

  Then, to his surprise, the trees lit up as white fire filled the clearing and blew the Hunters back through the smoking branches. Ardin felt the heat surround him, felt it brush against his skin briefly, but he was left untouched as it swirled around and out from him.

  He took a few moments to collect himself, cringing in an unwillingness to believe his luck, before opening his eyes. They were greeted with the same black night that they had left behind, but his captors were nowhere to be seen in his limited field of view.

  He began to relax, his arms dropping to his sides as he looked down. His hands moved up in response and he stared at them in the dark. They didn't feel the same as they had when the heat had gone out from them; in fact, he hadn't felt anything this time.