Shadow Walking Ch. 02

Here is chapter two of Shadow Walking. This story is certainly in 1st draft and isn't edited in any way. I hope you enjoy it and please feel free to leave a comment on how you think it's progressing :)

Introductions

The Golden Eagle appeared from nowhere. One moment Flame was tensed, trying to find the object of her unease, and the next there was a huge bird of prey sweeping from the high ceiling, amber eyes glowing with intent as it bore downwards.

The speed the bird moved told her it wasn’t a normal avian. She had barely enough time to register the dark brown wings tipped with veins of gold before she was shooting off a volley of flames and rolling through the doorway into the dining hall. It was a moment's reprieve as she heard the eagle shriek its displeasure.

Día Volar! It had to be. No other vampire would be awake at this time and there was no way in hell the vamps would have any guardians that were not of their kind. Flame was disconcerted at meeting up with what she’d previously considered a legend, but knew she didn’t have time to marvel over it.  This Día Volar was intent on killing her and she’d have to use all her wits to escape the situation.

She was already mentally incanting, drawing the heat of the earth faster and a bit too deeply for comfort. Clio was always warning her about channelling too much power but she figured, in these circumstances, too much was better than not enough.

*****

Étienne managed to avoid the ball of flame shot at him with relative ease. The Artisan hadn’t really targeted too well being more concerned about diving to safety into the dining hall. He let out an irritated shriek even as his form began to shimmer and he dove to the ground.

He landed in a crouch on booted feet, uncurling his large body in one fluid movement and rising to his full 6 foot 5 inches in an instant. Another instant was all it took for his grey eyes to track the fireball and watch it connect harmlessly against the marble tiled wall. It scorched the tile but the material wasn’t flammable so the flame extinguished quickly.

He had to stop the woman from shooting out flames and quickly. The dining hall wasn’t as flameproof with the tables being rich cedar wood and the chairs sumptuously cushioned. If a fire started in the castle it would be disastrous. He wouldn’t be able to secure the sleeping vampires to locations safe from the sunlight, which meant he had to think of another way of dealing with things.

“Witch!” He hadn’t meant it to be maligning of her species whom he knew had a fierce pride and detested the misnomer, but his hissed out word certainly achieved a reaction from the female.

 “Oh, you did not just call me that!” The soft voice had a hard edge, disbelief echoing from the words. “Artisan, you ignorant blood drinker! We are Artisans!”

Flame was so incensed by the vampire’s word she paused in the gathering of her power and waited to see what his next move was going to be. She couldn’t believe he’d just called her a Witch. She’d have been less outraged if he’d called her a murderer. It was the biggest insult anyone could give her.

Her response made Étienne’s lip curl slightly. “Believe me I didn’t mean it in that connotation. Artisan,” he countered dryly, moving to stand against the wall he knew she was hiding behind. He moved so silently he was certain she wouldn’t be aware he was so close with just the wall separating them.

“Do you have any idea how expensive that marble is?” he asked, trying to keep her off-balance as he scanned the wall seeking her heat signature. With the amount of power she was holding onto to it should help him to determine exactly where she was.

Flame ignored his question, frowning as his words hit home and his voice appeared to slide over her skin like a gentle caress. It was deep and rich, and completely intoxicating the way the words rumbled from his lips. The timbre of his voice was entirely at odds with his words.

He was angry she’d shot flames at him? He’d been attacking her! Of course she was going to defend herself. If that burnt his precious castle then who was he to call people names?

Flame didn’t know why she was feeling so offended by his words. It didn’t make sense that she was experiencing such anger when she needed to have a cool head and analyse the situation to enable her to escape.

She shook her head trying to clear the unnatural thoughts from her mind. Realisation dawned and she let out a startled gasp. The sneaky bastard! He was inside her head!

Even as she thought it, the wall suddenly erupted and two strong arms wrapped around her body and heaved her through the destroyed bricks and drywall. She had time to let out a startled yelp and then she was pinned to an undamaged section of the wall, long fingers gripping her throat. She stared up into the greyest eyes she’d ever seen and knew she was looking at death.

*****

Étienne had surprised the Artisan so much that the tingle of gathered power evaporated and he knew she’d let go of her magic. He pinned the female easily to the wall by the throat, using his lower body to keep her trapped for his perusal.

She was no beauty…well not in comparison to his women. Female vampires were artfully beautiful, classically so with no imperfections. This female was pretty enough but she had a small scar over her left eyebrow which detracted from her pale, clear skin. There was a second thin scar which ran from just behind her left ear and along her jaw line, almost reaching her chin.

If it hadn’t been for those scars she would have come close to matching the beauty of his kind. Her skin was flawless apart from them, her eyes a deep chocolate brown with tiny flecks of green around the pupils. Her lips were full and enticing, her cheekbones high and defined.

He surveyed her objectively, taking in her apparent youth. Artisans could conceal their years just as easily as any other race but he had a feeling this female was young. She appeared to be in her mid twenties and the ease with which he’d captured her seemed to support that.

She had to be a Shadow Walker. No ordinary Artisan would have managed to breach the borders so easily. Whilst he didn’t go out of his way to terminate other Shadow Walkers unless threatened, he had no qualms about executing this one. She had invaded the vampires’ inner sanctum. Death was the only punishment.

“Foolish little girl,” he sighed tightening his grip on her throat and applying pressure. He watched her eyes widen as she began to struggle in his grasp.

Her body rubbed against his and he felt his loins stir at the feminine contact. He blinked once, surprised that his body reacted to hers. His involuntary reaction caused the Artisan to still, her eyes widening in surprise.

She tried to say something but it came out in a choked sound. Étienne loosened his grip on her throat enough to hear what she was saying.

“Get off me, you perverted animal!”

The unexpected shriek was so not what he expected to hear that he snorted out a laugh. Seriously, the stupid female was worried about her virtue when he was about to take her head off? It was so ridiculous it was hard not to laugh.

He threw his head back and laughed loudly and then realised his mistake. The instant he did, the female’s knee connected between his legs and he let out a grunt of pain, releasing the hellion in his surprise.

His skin tingled and he threw himself into the dining room, his supernatural speed making him appear to vanish in the blink of an eye. He felt the rush of heat whoosh past him singeing the arm of his shirt an instant before he felt a burst of pain in his arm.

*****

Flame knew it was pure luck she’d hit the vampire. She hadn’t even been aiming at him, more desperate to get away than anything else. She heard a grunt of pain but she was already incanting her spell as she streaked towards the chink in the steel shutter.

The air moved behind her and she knew he was coming back at her, using his deadly speed to trap her before she could escape. She had precious little time and she didn’t waste a second of it. Her body shimmered just as she felt the vampire’s cold breath on her neck and then she vanished into red mist, swirling through the opening and into the noon sky.

Étienne grunted in surprise when the Artisan vanished. The burn on his arm was already healing, his regenerative powers kicking in quickly. He’d had worse injuries over the years, so the minor burn hadn’t even slowed him down.

He was almost on top of her when he felt his skin tingle again and then the hellion was gone in a haze of red mist. He tracked the mist escaping through the damaged shutter. ‘So that’s how she got in!’

He made a mental note to ensure all shutters were checked and repaired as soon as darkness fell but now he was in quandary. The castle had a weakness and others could enter the same way the female had. If he chased her he would be leaving the Crown Prince unguarded and it was hours before sunset.

But if he let the witch get away she would be able to give away the location of the seat of power of the vampire nation and the Gods only knew what else she’d managed to glean from her short time in the castle. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.

Étienne was pulling open the front door and securing it behind him before he’d realised he’d made a decision. He told himself it had nothing to do with his pride that he’d decided to catch the Artisan and execute her. It was simply more dangerous for her to share her knowledge than it was likely that another Artisan would enter the castle while he was away.

He secured the door and cast his grey gaze upwards. She had a head start on him but his enhanced eyesight made it easy to track her. He took off at a run, shape-shifting into his Golden Eagle form as he did, catching a thermal and spinning up high into the sky. Powerful wings beat upon the air as he quickly began to gain on the faint red mist before him.

Pursuit

He was behind her, she knew he was. Not only that, he was gaining fast.   The huge eagle would overtake her soon and then what? He couldn’t touch her in mist form but he could get in her way keeping her from the boundary line. She’d tire soon and have to revert to her normal form and then she’d be at his mercy…or lack of mercy.

Buggeration! Why had she let curiosity get the better of her? ‘Because you think you’re invincible?’ a little voice whispered in her head. Her mama had been right. It brought little comfort now but at least she could admit it before she was ripped to pieces by a pissed-off vamp.

Flame considered trying to find somewhere to hide but knew the vampire wouldn’t give up. He’d simply wait her out and either way she’d most likely end up dead. Her only option was to keep going and hope she could stay in mist form until she reached the border separating their lands.

*****

Étienne was on top of the mist before she got too far ahead of him. He was rather impressed with her ability though his eagle form was obviously the superior mode of travel. Still, she could get through smaller spaces in her alternate form. That would be a handy skill to have.

He swooped down, barring the forward motion of the mist and screeching his satisfaction as she had to shift direction to try and go around him. He quickly outflanked her, getting in her way once more.

There was something rather exhilarating about sparring with the Artisan. Étienne found he was enjoying blocking her path and imagining how frustrated she was getting at being balked at reaching her goal.

He knew if she crossed the boundary he’d have to let her go. He didn’t intend to lose this one though. She was his and nothing she could do would prevent him from detaching her pretty little head from her body.

His eagle relished the hunt as did his vampiric nature. There was nothing quite like tracking prey and closing in for the kill. The harder…the better. It made for great sport and he was up for great sport.

Maybe he would have a little taste of the Artisan before he killed her? Just the thought of tasting her blood made his hunger grow sharply. It had been almost a week since his last good meal. He’d only snacked the last few days at the closest Farm. He preferred his food not to be dripping in fear.

Étienne detested the Farms though he conceded the need for them. With so many of his kind refusing to feed others because of the power they had to share, Farming was the only way to keep his people in the supply of blood they needed to survive.

And it made the Adjutants very wealthy, not to mention the Crown Prince. Farming served a dual purpose for the Vampire Nation and his disgust at the shivering wretches in them was negated by that need.

The Artisan changed course abruptly and dived downwards towards some trees. He watched the red mist vanish into a crack in a large trunk and hovered above waiting to see where she would appear next.

*****

Flame was tiring and needed to rest. She was close to the border but not close enough. Sighting a hiding place, she slithered into the crack of a large tree trunk and took a moment to gather her thoughts. She knew the vampire was above waiting for her to come back out. The question was could she find some way of exiting without being seen?

Pretty soon she was going to have to release her spell. She’d used up too much of her strength, first crossing into the vampires’ lair, and now escaping. Usually she could hold mist form for as long as required but that was without an enormous eagle forcing her to change direction every two seconds.

Drifting slowly within the trunk, she spied what she thought could be an escape route. It was low to the ground and under the canopy of the branches. If she could sneak through, and stay low, then she should be able to make a fair distance before the vampire realised she’d slipped the net.

Praying to all the Gods she could think of, Flame slipped through the crack in the bark and skimmed the forest floor trying to stay beneath the branches. She listened for sounds of pursuit but the air above her was silent.

Finally something was going her way! She would have laughed if she had the capability in her alternate state. As it was, all she could do was keep putting distance between herself and the stupid Día Volar waiting for her to appear miles away.

Her strength was waning and she knew she was going to have to revert to human form soon. The invisible border was now less than a mile away. She could run fast but not as fast as a vampire could move. Would she make it in time?

The air shimmered and Flame rose to her full height. She raced from the cover of the trees, hearing the shriek of the eagle as it sighted her and took up pursuit. The final mile looked like it was a hundred miles. The thunder of swooping wings crashed on the afternoon air as she sprinted for the border.

She wasn’t going to make it! The air burned in her lungs as her strength waned further and the noise of wings grew louder. What a screw-up she was as a Shadow Walker. Killed by a bloody vampire because she had more courage than sense!

Flame ran knowing she was out of luck, tensing as she did, and waiting for the razor sharp claws of the eagle to shred her to pieces.

*****

Étienne sighted the Artisan the instant she appeared from the trees. For a fraction of a second he was startled that she’d eluded him so easily and then he soared after her. He could see she was tired and had no hope of making the boundary line. Success was in his grasp and his hunting instincts kicked in granting him more speed. Not that he needed more but the urge to sink his fangs into the woman fleeing him was dominating his thoughts.

From the moment he’d considered feeding from her, the urge had become a rampant need that surged through him like a wildfire. He wanted her blood and he’d have it. There was no escape for her.

Something glinted in his peripheral vision and he had but a moment to swerve before a thin lance of ice whistled past where he’d been.  Surprised by this new turn of events, his large wings banked to the left and he saw the shape of a man standing within the tree line across the border.

Hunter.

He should have expected he’d cross paths with the other Shadow Walker one day but he was still surprised to see him. Shrieking his irritation, Étienne shifted shape as he swooped to the ground, coming to land just on his side of the invisible boundary line.

The Artisan was lying panting on the grass, not three feet away from him, her chest heaving with the strain of her escape. She was so close and yet a million miles away.

“Well met, Étienne,” the tall, white-haired Shadow Walker called as he walked towards the woman. He stared down at her for a moment and then rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Thank you for escorting this child home.”

“This child is mine to punish,” Étienne ground out through clenched teeth. He was furious at being thwarted, his hunger gnawing at him. His eyes glowed red, his fangs beginning to sharpen and elongate as his gaze remained riveted on the woman before him.

“Such a harsh punishment you have in mind for one so young and impetuous,” Hunter countered quietly, pale blue eyes watching alertly for any sign of movement from the vampire. “Has the blood lust overcome you, old adversary?”

To be accused of succumbing to blood lust stung Étienne as nothing else could. Only immature vampires lost control in such a manner. The other Shadow Walker’s words had the desired effect, snapping him out of the haze of need engulfing him and he took a deep breath, retracting his fangs and pushing back his hunger.

“She trespassed on the Crown Prince’s castle, Hunter. The penalty is death, no matter how young and impetuous she may be!”

“Come and get me, Étienne,” Flame goaded, rolling over onto her stomach before pushing herself up to her knees. She was amazed she’d made it to safety and was feeling confident now there was another of her kind beside her.

“Hush, child, before I decide to let him have you.”

She looked up at the ice man and scowled. She had no idea who this Hunter was but it was evident that he was an Artisan and a Shadow Walker. Why he would side with a vampire she had no idea.

Hunter turned to look back at Étienne, his expression serene. “The last time we met I returned what belonged to you. This time I keep what belongs to me. A fair trade, don’t you agree?”

Frustrated, Étienne glared at the woman. He couldn’t cross the border or he’d break one of their oldest treaties. And he couldn’t deny that Hunter had allowed him to retrieve his vampire all those years ago. But that paled in comparison to the fact this witch had been inside Tobiah’s castle.

For the second time that day he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. And all because of the woman staring up at him with smug laughter in her eyes. How he wished he could slit her throat and watch as that laughter turned to stunned shock as the life slowly bled from her body.

With a frustrated hiss he bared his fangs at her, the ends of his fingers curling into talons. He let his transformation take over his features, knowing it was probably the first time she’d seen a vampire convert. From the surprise in her eyes and the way she scooted backwards, he took some small satisfaction that the view of his ridged brow and dripping fangs frightened her.

Étienne pointed one gnarled finger at the woman, his eyes glowing red with menace. “The next time we meet I will disembowel you, witch. I will do it slowly ensuring I keep you alive for the maximum amount of time. I will rip you open with my teeth and feast on your insides as you scream for mercy.”

*****

Flame swallowed hard, both repulsed and fascinated by the creature in front of her. In full vampiric state, Étienne wasn’t as attractive to look at, in fact, he was downright ugly. She wondered idly if he mated while in full vampire mode. Imagine waking up next to that!

“Charming,” she quipped back, rising to her feet. “Does that usually work on girls because quite frankly it’s leaving me a bit cold?”

She didn’t know what she expected his response to be but when he threw his head back and laughed she took another step back. There was clearly something not wholly right about this vampire’s mind. Maybe Día Volar were all insane and that was a trade-off for being able to walk in sunlight?

Étienne’s gaze turned to Hunter as he let go of his vampiric side and reverted to normal. “Take good care of your, child, Shadow Walker. She has been marked for death and is stupid enough to feel brave because she eluded me once. She will not do so again. Heed my words well.”

He spun and shimmered in the air, soaring high in his eagle form, before swooping back towards the castle.

Hunter watched him go for a moment, and then turned to peruse the woman at his side. He groaned inwardly at the exultant expression on her face. So this was what the Shadow Walkers were coming to? Children who had more bravery than sense?

“Who holds your leash, child?”

Flame bristled, shooting a dirty look in his direction. “No one holds my leash and I am not a child! Who are you anyway? And why are you friends with a vampire?” Her tone was suspicious as her expression changed to mirror it.

Hunter rolled his eyes again and leaned forward casting a quick incantation. He straightened and turned back towards the surrounding forest.

“Run home to Clio, child, and ensure you recount everything that’s happened today. I will be sure to ask when I see her next. Should she be oblivious to today’s events you will wish for the Día Volar’s tender mercies over mine.”

Flame gaped at him as he vanished. He’d just threatened her! She was a Shadow Walker just as he. He had no right to threaten her!  Standing there on her own she tried to imagine what Clio would have to say about the current events. Her mentor wouldn’t be very happy and an unhappy Clio meant hours of lecturing.

Maybe she could…no the look in Hunter’s eyes had made it clear he would ask Clio the next time he met with her. There was no escaping the fact she’d have to relate the day’s events to her mentor.

Sighing, Flame turned in the direction of home knowing the next few days were going to be very trying indeed.

Shadow Walking Ch 01

 Here is the opening of Shadow Walking. The setting is a few years on from the Prologue. Hope you enjoy :)

*

Flame

Silence enshrouded the heavily fortified castle surrounded by a fifty foot high wall. All entrances were sealed tight, the main double doors made of ten inch thick wood. Every window was hidden behind thick steel shutters allowing no means of entry to the building.

The castle was impenetrable…with the exception of one miniscule area in the window nearest the double doors.

A stray tendril of sunlight slipped through a chink in the steel shutter guarding the window. As the sun blazed high in the bright blue sky, the faint hint of a breeze blew through the courtyard and drifted towards the chink carrying with it a scarlet red mist.

The mist swirled gently and wafted inside breaching the impregnable fortress. Somewhere deep within the dark bowels of the castle something stirred in response instantly on alert.

The mist hovered for an instant and then slowly coalesced into shape, taking on the human form of a tall female with mahogany coloured hair laced liberally with dark red streaks. She stood frozen on the spot as her shape formed. The slow rise and fall of her chest the only movement she made.

Flame stood within the huge entrance hallway, allowing her dark gaze to become accustomed to the gloomy interior. There was a soft glow of light which was good because her night vision wasn’t as advanced as the inhabitants of the castle. It was better than most of her kind though, one of her special abilities.

Once her eyes adjusted she was able to view the interior quite easily. The entranceway was grand, bordering on ostentatious, but then vampires were all about beautiful possessions, or so she’d been told. They saw it as a mark of their power, their vanity so colossal it was laughable. She had expected the castle of the Crown Prince to be the most lavish just because of his status, but this really was over the top. 

Her gaze travelled the marble staircase leading upwards, black steps with no balustrade to prevent a fall. They appeared to be suspended in thin air but she knew there was some type of support somewhere, she just couldn’t see it from the angle she was standing.

Just the sight of it was enough to make her stomach flip over, her vertigo kicking in with a vengeance. Flame knew it was ridiculous to be afraid of heights. Her brain told her that daily, and yet, she’d never been able to overcome the silly fear she’d had since childhood.

Dragging her gaze from the staircase she methodically continued her examination of the room, taking in the ornate chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. It had to be the hugest thing she’d ever seen, full of dangling crystals of all shapes and sizes. It took her a moment to realise she was looking at diamonds and not crystals.

‘That figures.’  

Flame continued her perusal managing to hold in a snort of amusement.  She didn’t expect the vampires to be awake with them being nightwalkers and it being high noon. But a few of them were day walkers, Día Volar. Or so the legends of her people said.

Flame was new to her position, barely five years into her apprenticeship as a Shadow Walker. She’d been educated regarding the other species of her world but there wasn’t really much to be told as it had been so long since they’d interacted. She was almost certain that the day walking vampires couldn't be real, but it paid to be alert none-the-less.

Letting out a short puff of air, she shifted her position infinitesimally. Her short tenure as a Shadow Walker, and suspension of belief that the Día Volar existed, was possibly why she was currently standing in the heart of the vampire stronghold. Her mother had always warned her she had far too much curiosity for her own good.

This had seemed like a good idea at the time but now Flame was reconsidering her actions. If there were Día Volar within the castle then she’d be in big trouble if they caught her invading their territory.

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to leave. The chink in the shutter had taken her months to find. With the vampires’ aversion to sunlight at paranoia level, it would quickly be repaired and this opportunity to breach their defences wouldn’t come again any time soon.

Flame was determined to gather as much information as possible to take back to her brethren.

Shifting her position again she could now make out the razor thin wires supporting each level of the staircase. Whatever material was being used must have been incredibly strong to allow passage up the steps. It was hard not to be impressed by the craftsmanship.

Feeling time was slipping past too quickly; she finished orientating herself, consigning images to her mind of the white marble walls and floor tiles, the rich vein of gold threading through them and decorating each lintel of the rooms leading off from the hallway.

‘Yup, ostentatious with a capital O. Foolish people.’

Shaking her head, Flame moved properly for the first time, silently flowing towards the nearest room so she could explore further. Her movements were unhurried, displaying an inner grace she was oblivious to.

Flame had no concept of how the world viewed her, of how her family and friends had before the Directorate had tested her and changed her life completely. She was still so new to this life that it hurt to think back on her past, of all the loved ones she’d had to sacrifice to join the Shadow Walkers.

Sometimes late at night, she’d return home, hiding in the shadows and watching her parents and siblings move on with their lives believing her dead. Those were the times she often questioned the ultimate decision she'd made. To leave her old life behind and become dead to all who’d loved her. Not that she’d really had much choice in the matter. One didn't say no to the Directorate.

But watching her mother silently weeping over the image of her 'dead' daughter was too much to bear and on those nights Flame would cry silently with her, desperate to tell her mama the truth but unable to. Those visits always broke her heart but she found herself unable to stop, desperate to cling onto the past and all she'd lost.

Clio inevitably knew when she’d visited her family. Her mentor said nothing but Flame was aware she was being granted an adjustment period and one day soon Clio would have words with her about the visits. For the moment, the other Shadow Walker appeared to understand and held her peace. Possibly Clio had had the same reaction when she was chosen to this life.

Shaking off the misery which was starting to invade her soul, Flame stood in the open doorway allowing her gaze to follow the sleek lines of the furniture in what appeared to be a dining hall of some kind. She’d barely begun her perusal when her inner radar suddenly screamed an alert and she spun around, dropping to a crouch to survey the entrance hall through narrowed eyes.

Nothing seemed untoward. The entranceway appeared exactly as it had been when she’d entered but something was warning her that she was no longer alone. Was there a Día Volar in the castle? Did they truly exist?

Magic pulse deep within her as Flame drew on the heat of the earth’s core. Fire raced within her veins, the heat coalescing in her midriff awaiting a target. The red streaks in her hair appeared brighter, her irises bleeding from dark, chocolate brown to marbled flames.

Though she couldn’t see anyone, Flame knew she was no longer alone in the room. There had to be a Día Volar present. Where they were she had no idea. He or she appeared skilled at camouflaging their presence. She remained tense, struggling not to allow fear to get the better of her.

‘Mama, you always said I’d land myself in serious trouble one day. I guess you were right about that.’

Étienne

Étienne sensed the intruder the instant she entered the castle. High up within the rotten rafters of the dank dungeon, he stretched his wings out slowly, tilting his head to the side as he listened for sounds above. His brown, gold-tipped feathers barely created a sound as he poised in alert mode, tracking the intruder.

Even in his eagle form his sense of smell was acute as was his hearing. The female above was good at remaining still but he could hear her heartbeat and scent the acrid stench of fear which was roiling from her in waves. Whoever had breached their defences at least had the good sense to be afraid, even if she lacked any basic intelligence.

That was evident in her penetrating the inner sanctum of the vampire Crown Prince. Only a fool who courted death would be this stupid. And Étienne had no qualms about being the executioner. It was what he was and all he could remember ever knowing. 

Flapping his wings, he launched himself from the rafter he was perched on, and flew silently towards the source of the intrusion, intrigued by this unexpected turn of events.

It was his turn to protect Crown Prince Tobiah. Nicandro; his fellow Shadow Walker, was off doing the Gods only knew what. They rotated a watch over their ruler though they bore him no real allegiance or love. He was an acceptable leader and astute enough to have surrounded himself with adjutants with the right amount of power to enrich his own.  He was also adept at increasing his wealth to a level that surpassed most of their kind.

It wasn’t part of the Shadow Walkers remit to protect Tobiah, but Étienne and Nicandro chose the task to maintain the current political landscape. It was working to their benefit so it seemed prudent to maintain the status quo.

It was usually a boring, thankless task which was why this incursion sparked Étienne’s curiosity enough that he opted not to go in for the kill immediately. Instead he perched high in the shadows of the entranceway to observe the intruder.

She was tall for a female; even if some of that height was attributed to the rather fetching black boots she was wearing with wicked looking heels. They increased her height to almost six feet, which was unusual to see as Tobiah had a penchant for smaller, more delicate creatures gracing his castle.

The female before him didn’t look the least bit delicate even though she was a tad on the slim side for his personal tastes. He preferred more curves and a bit more breasts, nicely rounded hips to hold onto as he took his pleasure.

Étienne’s wandering thoughts caught him off guard and one of his wings ruffled minutely as he brought himself up short. It was an inconsequential movement and yet the female appeared to sense something, dropping down into a crouch, clearly on the defensive.

He sensed the rise in magic, being attuned to the arts though not a wielder in any way. Most of his kind had long lost any ability to use magic though some of their basic abilities were of a magical nature. His eagle eyes closed for a bare fraction of a second as a slight tingle shivered through him and he worked to overcome his surprise.

'An Artisan?'

He was actually struggling to absorb that there was an Artisan in the castle. He wasn't used to being surprised, having lived so long. Not only was she a magic user she was also a very powerful one judging from his reaction to her drawing on the elements.

The last Artisan Étienne had come across had been centuries ago along one of the borders. A fellow Shadow Walker called Hunter. Étienne had been tracking a vampire who'd succumbed to bloodlust and was attacking anyone and everyone. His chase had taken him to the border and the vampire had been so lost in his hunger he'd crossed over the line.

The tall Artisan had appeared from nowhere in an instant. Without uttering a word he had taken out the vampire with what appeared to be a sword made from the sharpest and thinnest ice Étienne had ever seen. One second the vampire was running and the next his head was rolling back over the invisible boundary line.

Étienne had stayed on his side of the border, watching the Artisan warily for his next move. The man was built like a well-honed athlete with short hair cropped close to his skull in a hue so white it appeared unnatural. Pale blue eyes met his for the briefest of moments and a smile slowly curved hard lips.

"Hunter," the Artisan had said quietly and for a moment Étienne had thought he was addressing him with a title. Then he realised that the male was introducing himself, recognising they were brethren in some form by the nature of their positions.

Mildly surprised at being addressed by another species, Étienne had responded with a cool nod, his grey eyes shrewd. "Étienne." His gaze had returned to the dead vampire as he finished speaking.

"You should have run faster, Étienne. It's your own fault that we now have access to one of your kind."

It was hard to argue with the statement. If he had moved quicker the Artisans wouldn't now be able to perform experiments on vampire physiology from the remains lying on the other side of the border. Nicandro would be angry as would Tobiah.

A moment's silence passed and then Hunter stepped back moving towards the tree line close by. "Retrieve him quickly, vampire." With that the Artisan disappeared and after a second's hesitation, Étienne decided to take him at his word and used his enhanced speed to cross the boundary and take back what belonged to him.

He half expected Hunter to return and braced for the tingle to go down his spine which would warn him magic was being conjured. But the Artisan did not return and he safely retrieved the fallen vampire and made it back across the border with no interference.

That had been the last time he'd come in contact with an Artisan. Now he viewed another, only this time it was in his domain. He had always wondered at Hunter's lack of ruthlessness during their encounter. He would not have been as generous had their roles been reversed, as he was not about to be generous in this encounter.

The female Artisan had breached the inner sanctum of the vampire nation. Though the air crackled with energy and he watched chocolate eyes bleed to red marble signalling the magic in use was fire, he could sense the youth of the female and knew she was no match for one his age. No matter how strong her magic.

The penalty for an attack on the Crown Prince was instant death. Étienne had delayed too long as it was because his curiosity was piqued by the incursion. It was time to do his job, protect the Crown Prince at all costs.

He swooped from the rafters, his wings stretching to their full 7 foot span as he glided towards his target, wicked talons at the ready...

 

Shadow Walking - Prologue

Late last year a new project came to me, an idea which imbedded itself into my brain while I was writing Hearts of Warriors. The initial idea came from the creation of The Praetorians in that tale. I loved the idea of  Elite Guardians though due to the nature of Hearts, the concept was going to be quite limited within that story. So I took the idea and expanded on it, coming up with a whole new world set apart from the FTI Saga. 

Welcome to the world of The Shadow Walkers. 

This story will not be posting up on Literotica. As I work on this tale I will post more chapters here on my Blog only. I hope you enjoy the Prologue for this new saga which I hope will be as good as, if not better than, FTI.

Enjoy! And please do comment or contact me via the Contacts options supplied on the Blog so I can get a feel for how the story is being received.

 *

 Shadow Walking - Prologue

 

Naughty witches in a row

Chanting spells they should not know

Casting light and ice and fire

Tempting Fate with acts so dire

Naughty witches tempting Fate

Halt this now ‘fore ‘tis too late

Darkness swirls within the gloom

Tendrils creep within the room

Naughty witches in a row

Chanting spells they should not know

Ancient Evil you will wake

And the world will scream and quake!

Deep within the cottage the Artisan shivered, an audible gasp escaping her lips as the faint rhyme ended and then began again from the beginning. ‘Ye Gods, NO!’

Where had they learned that rhyme? It had been centuries since any Artisan had used it as a deterrent to their children using magic unsupervised. It had once been in common use, the history of where it came from so vague it was considered harmless. Then one day the first tendrils of unease had seeped into the magic surrounding them.

It had been as if the darkness within the rhyme had begun to manifest itself the more it was chanted. Being in tune with any subtle difference in the flow of magic, the Artisans quickly convened a Council and the decision was made to strike the rhyme out of all books and scrolls forever.

Now Margot’s children was singing away happily outside and the more they sang the stronger the sense of foreboding became to the Artisan. Throwing down her spell book she raced from her work room, picking up her long skirt so she could run faster.

“Oro; Palantia, cease this instant!” She shrieked as she ran, her long black hair snaking wildly behind her.

Margot burst from the secluded cottage deep in the heart of the densely packed forest. Her son and daughter were still chanting, holding hands and dancing around in circles as their voices grew in strength and the wind began to gust, throwing up autumn leaves in a wild fury.

“NO!” she shrieked again, sensing the presence of evil surrounding them, trying frantically to get to her children as they danced faster and faster, magic crackling on the air. 

Naughty witches in a row

Chanting spells they should not know

Ancient Evil you will wake

And the world will scream and quake!

Lightening cracked overhead, singeing a tree not far from the children. Their mother screamed, thrown back by splintering wood. Her fear for her son and daughter clouded her mind as she feverishly tried to formulate a protection spell.

The children spun faster and faster, their dark hair flying in the wind, leaves and branches cascading wildly around them, their chanting never ceasing.

Margot chanted too, throwing out the strongest protection spell she had, crawling through the buffeting wind towards the spinning duo. Her lips moved silently as she dug deep within her, drawing on the power of the wind, her main source of magic. She tried to cocoon the children in a protective bubble but the Evil around them was skilled in the element of wind magic.

It fought her, wrestling control and weakening her spell to something so pitiful the children could have conjured up something stronger. She cried up to the sky, her voice full of desperation.  “Oh, Okeio, Goddess of Protection, I beseech you. Save my babes from this Evil!”

The wind shrieked loudly, the sound of the children’s voices faltering. The Artisan gained ground towards them, relief coursing through her as their spinning began to slow and the build up of magic started to subside.

“Thank you! Thank you!” she sobbed, finally reaching her children who had stopped their spinning and chanting and now stood with their backs to her. “Oro? Palantia?”

As one her son and daughter turned to face her, their little bodies moving in concert. Terror infused Margot and her mouth opened in a soundless scream as deep pools of darkness shone from their eyes, thin lines of red snaking from the corners to wind up to their foreheads in a intricate pattern.

Two little mouths opened but one voice issued, so malevolent to hear it froze her blood on the spot.

“Too late, Mama!”

The Artisan tried to speak, tried to issue some sound as she stared at her children and saw darkness looking back from their souls. Her mouth moved but nothing came out, sheer terror holding her mute.

A heartbroken scream finally issued forth, turning into dread and then complete agony as inky tendrils of darkness shot from the children’s eyes and entered their mother’s.

Margot began to writhe in anguish, blood pouring from her eyes. Within her body, pain like nothing she’d ever known before, began to grow as she felt her body temperature rocket upwards. Sweat covered her body, drenching her clothes in an instant as her blood heated dangerously high.  

She tried to pray for her children, tried to find some strength to protect them as they slowly boiled her alive from inside out. “Son; daughter.” Her words were issued on a cracked sound. Collapsing to the ground before them she tried to reach out but her strength was gone.

Finally her screams ceased and the darkness faded from the children leaving behind a girl of six and a boy of eight staring down at the smouldering remains of their mother.

Palantia turned to face her brother with a frown marring her brow. She pushed back her tangled hair, hating it long. “Should we feel bad, Oro?” she asked, wondering if now Mama was dead maybe she’d be allowed to cut it short. She smiled at the thought.

Her brother shrugged still staring at the corpse. “Suppose so,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone. When the voice had whispered to them what they had to do Oro had felt a little unsure for a moment, but only a moment. Looking down at his mother’s remains he knew that he would have to help Palantia with the transition.

“We’ll have to pretend we’re sad when the others come but that’ll take a few days. That still isn’t a lot of time so we’d better go read Mama’s magic books and practice some more before the others arrive.” He stepped around the corpse and headed towards the cottage, his sister skipping beside him.

“Can I have short hair now, Oro? If I pretend good enough do you think I’ll be able to convince them that letting me cut my hair will make me feel better?”

“You can do whatever you set your mind to, Palantia, as long as you pretend good enough to fool the others.”

Smiling happily she skipped into the house with her brother. The Artisans would sense the death of their mother but they lived so remotely it would take them a while to come and investigate. Enough time for them to devour all their mother’s spell books and practice being sad at her demise. Humming to herself, Palantia closed the cottage door without a backward glance.