The Vitalis Chronicles: White Shores

by Jay Swanson

  Ardin stood slowly, an inch at a time, but he managed to get up. Once he stopped teetering, he lifted his head and gave her a little smile. He said he thought he could move and started walking slowly down the trail, until she corrected him gently and pointed him in the right direction.

  They got walking, and slowly he picked up the pace until he was moving fairly briskly. Not without an almost permanent grimace on his face, however.

  “How'd you manage that?” he asked as they moved along the path that took them through the tall boulders.

  “Manage what?”

  “To get the slug out of me. I could feel it burning away in my chest until I passed out.”

  “Oh. I don't know, to be honest,” she said.

  They continued on in relative silence, broken only by Ardin's occasional grunt or gasp whenever he took a misstep. The path took them out onto a ledge that narrowed as it went around a cliff that bulged towards the river and soared over their heads. The Rent moved lazily along below to their left, as far below them now as they were away from it.

  So far they hadn't seen any sign of Khrone's Hunters, but Alisia wasn't going to take any chances and pressed Ardin onward. It wouldn't take long for them to catch up if they regrouped before the day was through.

  The sun began to lower itself towards the cliffs in front of them as they wandered west and south with the river. She didn't know how much time they had before the sun set. They would be forced to stop once it did. Any misstep in the dark could send them plummeting to their death.

  Ardin seemed to be growing in strength despite the pain that was intertwined inextricably with his expressions. They rounded the face of the large cliff and were brought back in among a set of boulders. The path led up into a draw running to the right of some shorter cliffs.

  “Let's take a break, eh?” he asked as he put his hand out on one of the boulders.

  “We need to keep moving, Ardin.”

  “Just a minute,” he said through panting breaths. “I feel like if I just get a few minutes, I'll feel a lot better for it.”

  Alisia looked up towards the sun as it continued waning, then back at Ardin who was almost doubled over in an effort to catch his breath.

  “Alright, but only a minute,” she capitulated to his need as she moved behind him to inspect his wound.

  Pulling aside his torn shirt she could see that it was still oozing a bit but was looking better than it had a few minutes ago. How it was healing so quickly was beyond her, she had only known humans to take a long time to mend.

  “Man,” he said as he stood up and arched his back, hands pushing forward as if to help. He seemed to have regained some range of motion with his arm.

  “I always thought getting shot would hurt, but holy crap.”

  Alisia laughed at that, half from relief. He was proving a lot tougher than she'd given him credit for.

  “Well then, mister. I think it's time we get back on the trail. If we hurry we could make it to the Delta by nightfall.”

  The thought brought a mixed sense of comfort and uncertainty to Ardin.

  “Alright,” he said finally. “I'm just glad it'll be dark when we get there.”

  “Why's that?”

  “I have a feeling that our pictures are floating around by now.”

  “Have you ever been to the Delta before, Ardin?”

  “No.”

  “It's not exactly the kind of place you need to be concerned with law enforcement if you're trying to avoid them.” She smiled as the thought took Ardin aback. “We'll be fine. But we need to move. Are you ok to get going?”

  He stretched again and grimaced before saying he was ready. They were gaining ground as they worked their way higher into the cliffs, the Rent shrinking steadily below them as they continued on.

  CAPTAIN ANDERS KEATON was furious to say the least as he crouched over the burned corpse of one of his Hunters. It reflected the carnage back in the White Forests. It boiled any good Hunter's blood to find the handiwork of one of the hated Magi. Especially when it involved one of their own, and Sam had been as good a man as he was a soldier.

  As angry as Keaton was, he worked not to show it. His demeanor had to remain calm. If not for his own sake, then for the sake of his men.

  The last thing he needed was for them to feel his implied consent to their thirst for revenge. He had been ordered to bring the little Magess back alive, and that was what he would do. Lucius, on the other hand, he was certain, wasn't so keen on the orders.

  He walked over to the lieutenant who sat on a log recovering from his own burns. He had been the lucky one in the mess, though Keaton thought that was unfortunate. He'd take a man like Sam over one like Lucius any day of the week. Hell, he'd take a donkey over Lucius.

  “So are you ready to tell me what happened here?”

  Lucius looked up tentatively over his hands before putting his face back in them, he groaned lightly. “I'm feeling pretty beat up here, Chief.”

  “Not as beat up as you're going to feel if you don't start talking, Lucius.”

  Keaton grabbed the lieutenant's shoulder and shoved him against the tree behind. The man groaned again as his singed leather armor stretched reluctantly, peeling away from his burns as it did so. He had been lying in the grass for the past few hours and stank to high heavens.

  “I lost a great man today, Lucius, a great man that I'd trade you in for in a heartbeat. And by the looks of things your negligence is to blame.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, sir?”

  “Where's your MARD stick, you bastard?”

  “Oh hell sir,” he coughed. “It wasn't the little Witch that we were on to.”

  “Well you obviously found her in spite of the fact.” Anders Keaton shoved his lieutenant against the tree one last time as he stood up. “And since you didn't find it necessary to activate your damned MARD before approaching them I've lost another man!”

  The captain knelt again. The moonlight glistened, captured by the radio antennae housed decoratively in the small wings that flew back from his temples.

  “You realize I've never lost a man under my command, Lieutenant? And now your stupidity has cost me that record.”

  Lucius glared daggers at his commanding officer. He hated the man; too straight for his own good. Besides, the only reason he had never lost a man was because this generation of Khrone's had hardly ever seen any action. He wished he'd never been transferred to Captain Anders Keaton's squad; he'd wished that often. If it wasn't for the other Hunters lurking around he would have been tempted to make an opening in the chain of command right then and there.

  “You could be glad you didn't lose us both, sir.”

  “I suppose I could.” Keaton looked off into the trees. But I'm not.

  Lucius had been a thorn in his side the past few months, he felt like he had to keep a constant eye on the man. He was always looking for new and creative ways to bend the rules. And he was cruel, to say the least.

  “Why didn't you call for us, or at least wait for reinforcements?”

  “Just wanted to get on with it, I guess, sir.”

  What he meant was he wanted to do what he would without prying eyes, Keaton thought.

  “Even after you got your heads kicked in back in the forest? You were supposed to be checking in on them, Lucius. Not leading death to their doorstep!”

  “Guess we've just had a bad day.”

  Keaton stopped himself, rubbing his eyes and working to regain his composure. There was no point in beating Lucius about the head now. It was a waste of time.

  “Where were they headed?”

  “Hell if I know sir.” Lucius almost took pleasure in disappointing. “I've been laying about for a while now.”

  Keaton turned and ordered one of the other Hunters to escort Lucius to a nearby outpost. He hated to spend another man on this mess but he didn't have much choice if he was to make sure the lieutenant made it back alive.

  He was down five men now, sev
en if he included Lucius and his escort. And though he was confident he could get the job done with the remaining four, he wasn't so sure that five men would be enough to handle the Magess and her friend. He hadn't been so sure that they were traveling together until now, but it complicated things. Especially if the kid was a citizen of Elandir or one of the towns under her protection.

  After Lucius had hobbled off with the help of the other Hunter, Keaton ordered his remaining men to sleep. They'd been running through the foothills for the past few days with little rest and he figured they wouldn't have to work too hard to catch up with their prey now. Sleep was elusive, his dreams making it fitful. As was so often the case, the morning came all too soon. They packed up what little gear they carried as dawn warmed the horizon, and prepared to start off.

  “Will. Come here,” he addressed the tall sniper in the early light.

  Will was already wearing his specialized camouflage, covered in the area's grasses over loose cloth mesh that made him practically invisible when laying on the ground.

  “I want you to stick to the plains, continue downstream until you find them and then pin them down. We'll work hard to keep up.”

  “Aye sir.”

  “And Will, don't kill them if you can help it. We're still under orders to take them alive so don't use your MARD rounds.”

  “Aye sir.” The tall sniper started to run back up the draw with a smirk.

  Anders hoped he could trust the man.

  “As for us, we're going to follow and catch them.”

  The remaining three men weren't happy to hear that, he could tell. But they maintained discipline. He lifted his gun's strap over his head and looped it across his chest, then fitted his leather helmet on his head and mask on his face.

  “I know we'd all like to skin the pair of them, but we don't have authorization. We have our orders.” He dropped the tinted visor over his eyes. “So let's go fill them.”

  The fugitives ran down the draw and into the forest that led to the river. Khrone's Ghosts never walked, and their pace was almost always at an ungodly speed. It took a lot to slow them down, as they cleared logs and ditches with ease. Their specialized leather was made to resist the blades often carried by the Shadow, but more importantly, the fire often used by Magi. It had saved them multiple casualties in this chase alone but sadly wasn't foolproof.

  Soon they were nearing the river bank, and as the draw opened up into the gorge the trees gave way and they found themselves back in an arid, grassy landscape.

  They turned downstream. He was certain the pair was headed for the coast and what few signs they had seen had suggested the same. It was hard to track and at the same time be concerned with speed, but they managed well enough. They were famous for it.

  He had split his squad up the week before in hopes of finding the Magess more quickly, and while it had worked it had cost him dearly. He was getting frustrated with the losses, and he knew that if Lucius had just waited for him to arrive things would have gone differently. He swore under his breath as he picked up the pace.

  They ran for another hour or so before he heard the first echoes of gunfire farther on and swore again. Will should have waited until they were in view. He was losing control of his men.

  As they rounded the bend in the river, they saw their prey, small hunched figures in the distance. His heart jumped in hopeful expectation. They looked like they were scared spitless. He smiled behind his mask, but his smile disappeared as the witch got up and shielded their escape with the huge log she'd been hiding behind.

  He swore a third time and glanced over his shoulder. His men had fallen behind and he signaled for them to hurry. He couldn't let them get away, and Will hadn't taken up a position that was close enough to keep them in range if they ran. He was concerned that if they crossed the river, he would lose them.

  They made it to the water's edge and he figured it best to try and slow them now, or possibly lose his chance of capturing them all over again. He dropped to a knee, bringing his rifle to his shoulder in one smooth motion. He flicked his safety off and into its 'burst fire' position, took aim, and started shooting. The other three Hunters joined him there and began to unsling their own rifles but he ordered them to keep running. He would do his best to wound them if he could, but they needed to keep the chase.

  He waited for them to cross his line of fire and then continued to take shots, but the witch was splashing and steaming the water up behind her so much that he found it hard to see the pair. He fired a few more times into the mess of water but slowly accepted the fact that they were out of range. He dropped the spent magazine from his smoking rifle and loaded a fresh one before slinging it over his shoulder and taking off after his men.

  They were over half way to the ford by now, their prey nearly across the river. He waved at Will to join them, but couldn't actually tell if the sniper was still on the ridge. Keaton was still trying to find his outline among the rocks when he heard a whooshing sound like a thousand fish jumping out of the water at once. He looked ahead towards the ford to find that it wasn't fish, it was stones flying towards his men by the hundreds.

  Captain Anders Keaton stopped in his tracks as his three Hunters, now at the water's edge and crossing, were blown backwards by the onslaught of the river's fury. The water and dust began to settle as he gaped openly. His men were all down and the witch was turning to flee the river. He hardly paid her any attention as he ran, his mind consumed with his men.

  This had quickly become the worst operation he had ever run. He made it to the ford's edge, looking frantically for his men when he saw two of them on their backs just a little farther on. The third was face down in the river, floating slowly away.

  Keaton ran out into the water, thrashing his way to the soldier and dragging him back towards the air he so badly needed. The man's face was streaked with watery blood, each streak growing in thickness as the water slid off his face. Bruises were already forming in what skin remained unbroken. The lean captain yelped in anger and felt like crying at the sight. He dragged the man to dry land to discover the other two still floating lifeless in the shallows.

  The captain tore his helmet off as he knelt over his unconscious Hunter, tearing back at the armor to try and find the sources of bleeding underneath. There were dozens of places where the skin had been broken in spite of his armor. He was dying. Keaton tried putting pressure on the wounds. There were too many to stop, but he made the frantic attempt in spite of its futility. He was weeping now, bare hands firmly pressing down on the larger wounds.

  If the soldier felt anything he didn't show it, he simply remained unconscious.

  Keaton threw himself at the wounds with a vengeance as the bleeding slowed. Soon they were barely oozing, lacking the pressure necessary to keep the blood flowing. There was little drama for the soldier's part, he simply exhaled softly and never drew breath again.

  Anders Keaton, however, wept openly and threw his head down on his bloodied hands. He couldn't believe this was happening, he had never lost a man before this venture. He should have been first in the river, it was his place. It was his place.

  The river continued to wander by as Keaton's whole countenance changed visibly. He stiffened and then sat up straight, staring over the body and upriver at the other two corpses. He didn't see that far, simply trying to make up his mind as he washed his hands off in the shallow water around his knees. And then he made it and stood.

  “I'm not letting this all be for nothing,” the captain said to himself at the edge of losing his composure. He strapped his helmet back into place, locking it into the leather that was wrapped around his neck.

  “We aren't doing him any good by standing over his body, and Will won't be able to get down here for another hour if he's smart about it. I'm going after that rotten witch and I'm going to end this right now.”

  There was no one to hear him, but he needed to believe someone knew. Someone, somewhere. Anywhere. And with that, Captain Anders Keaton too
k off running as hard as the water in the river would allow.

  He crossed and made his way up the other side, turning left into a large grouping of boulders that would lead him on the trail to the Delta. It had been a long time since any of them had been this far from Elandir on a hunt. Wandering into another City State's territory on such business was tricky. He didn't care.

  He came to the first cliff face and rounded it swiftly, aches and pains working their way out of joints and muscles as the rush of the chase caught him. He lived for this; they were Khrone's Ghosts. They were swift and silent and deadly and no prey could outrun them in the end. He almost yelped for joy when he caught sight of the ragged pair ahead of him. It looked like the boy had been hit by one of his wild shots.

  He would take that as a good omen, he thought to himself, as he lowered his head and picked up the pace. He was just starting to sweat. This had been a good chase. They'd put up a good effort, he'd give them that.

  They were still a ways off, up into the cliffs now, but he would catch them soon enough. Captain Anders Keaton smiled at the certainty.

  EIGHTEEN

  ARDIN FELT LIKE he was climbing a mountain. The path wound even higher into the cliffs until they were near the very top of the Rent. The gorge looked enormous from up here as the shadows began to lengthen. It was so deep and wide, he had hardly been able to tell its magnitude from the river's edge. In a way he wished he could just stop, sit at the edge of a cliff, and watch the sunlight work its moving magic on the landscape.

  He was so tired of the violence, the killing, the pain. He wasn't made to take life, he wasn't so sure anyone was, and he pitied those who might hold that distinction.

  Alisia had grown increasingly tired as they climbed. The event at the river crossing had taken its toll on her more than she had realized.

  They rounded one final bulging cliff face to find the glistening ocean-side city of Brenton sitting on the Delta below. Ships of all sizes crowded in the harbors and even more floated out along the coast, waiting their turn to enter the port. Ardin felt a sense of hope rise for a moment against the exhaustion.