Delver Magic I: Sanctum's Breach by Jeff Inlo (ebook reader 8 inch .TXT) 📖

In the flickering firelight, the unidentified woman - the vampire - maintained her hold on the tracker, both with her hands and with her fangs. Her face remained a shadow. Her fangs also now dodged the light, for they were fully embedded in raw flesh. Only her hair and her swaying, silent coat were truly clear to the delver’s eyes. That, and of course, her victim.

Evan Chase struggled as first, desperately twisting the knife which was embedded in the midsection of his attacker. His eyes betrayed his fear, the whites glowing hotter than the fire. Thankfully, his screech of pure terror died away, replaced by grunts and moans as he worked with frantic hysteria upon the knife’s handle.

The woman ignored both his snarls and the knife. Despite the vicious grinding of the long blade, there was no sign of pain or even harm. Ryson imagined the wound in the woman’s abdomen must now be cavernous, large enough for nearly every organ to simply fall out, yet he could not find even the slightest trail of blood leaking to the ground. The only sign of blood remained on the shoulder of the tracker, and just below the area where the vampire’s mouth held him. A small dark stain blotted the collar of his shirt. It grew no bigger even as the sharp teeth remained in the tracker’s jugular. The woman was not allowing any of the red liquid to escape her hunger.

With finality, the trackers eyes closed. His hands fell from the blade and dropped to his sides as his knees buckled. He was no longer struggling, or for that matter, sustaining his own weight. The color of life left his cheeks as surely as the blood was drained from his body. His head drooped forward, fell against the shoulder of the woman that now held him up to finish her feast.

It was not unwillingness to help the tracker that kept Ryson from moving forward, it was not fear. It was the question of his own sanity. Could this really be happening? Perhaps, it was no stranger than speaking to ghosts, running from shags, or meeting algors, but this one vision shattered the confidence in his ability to reason.

Ryson Acumen heard most of the stories involving the legends, including the stories of vampires. He was also sure he heard the word spoken when he and Lief Woodson went to explore Sanctum. He might have even said it himself. Vampires. They existed in a time when goblins and shags, like the ones he had already seen, walked the land and challenged the order of Uton. Yet even as he accepted the existence of goblins and shags into his reality, he was not sure he could accept this, not sure it was truly happening.

Delusions. A new word exploded in his mind. It was the alternative he faced. Was he bending the border between dreams and reality? Was his mind calling on his memory of the legends in some bizarre and uncontrollable way. Was any of this really happening?

He was not given a chance to answer this question. His shock and uncertainty were broken by Evan Chase’s collapsing body. No longer in the grasp of the woman’s hands or teeth, he crumbled to the ground in a thud which sounded hollow.

The woman turned her attention first to the knife in her stomach. She pulled it out with indifference. The blade shined clean in the firelight. As she tossed it away, Ryson’s eyes followed the sparkling blade in disbelief. The woman chuckled lightly and Ryson’s eyes returned to her. He still could not distinguish a single feature of her face other than her sparkling green eyes.

“Should I make a glutton of myself this evening?” Her voice was cold and warm, appealing as well as repugnant at the same time. “I have walked a long time alone. It would be a shame to let you go.”

Ryson bit back his fear, made every attempt to clear from his mind the doubts of his sanity. If he needed to question his reasoning, this was not the time. Still, the questions nagged at him and he remained at a loss of what to do. The woman made no immediate sign of approach, and Ryson found strength in the distance that remained between them.

“Why did you do that?” He was not sure why he asked that particular question, but he felt a need to understand the horror of what he witnessed.

“It was necessary,” she responded simply. She licked her lips but made no other movement. The fire glistened only for a second against the fangs which were again hidden behind those same lips.

“You killed him,” the delver emphasized.

“He will walk again.”

Ryson shuddered at the thought.

The woman laughed a laugh that contained no warmth at all and it chilled Ryson to the marrow. “It is not so bad; you will see that for yourself.”

“No,” Ryson protested weakly.

“Are you sure?”

“I won’t let you near me.”

The woman stood silent for long moments. Her eyes glistened like emeralds in bright sunlight. Ryson felt a biting cold in his soul.

“You are a delver,” she announced suddenly. “You do have the power to avoid me, but do you have the desire?”

Ryson’s thoughts turned as gray as an early morning fog. A dull throbbing obstructed any attempt to organize them.

“What are you talking about?” he gurgled.

“You want to run don’t you?” the woman murmured. The coldness disappeared. Her voice was now almost enticing. “But you won’t. You want to know more about me, don’t you?”

Ryson managed a nod.

“I see your thoughts in your face. You think I’m a vampire, or a dream. Maybe I’m both. You no longer know what’s real. I can help you with that. I can give you the answers to everything you ever wished to know.”

Ryson could not lift the growing fog which swirled about his every thought. The woman seemed to inch forward, but he was not certain.

“So many things you have seen and felt.” The woman continued with a soothing, knowing voice. “So many things with no answers. You want those answers, you need those answers.”

Again, Ryson nodded. His tongue was as heavy and as confused as his thoughts. His ability to speak had left him.

The woman was indeed closer to him now. The fire was no longer between them. It was behind her and even her coat was now hidden to him by the shadows. Her eyes, however, remained visible even as they sparkled with the warmth of spring.

“I can end your confusion; bring to you the knowledge of what you so desire. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? A delver’s dream come true? And there is no emptiness in my promise. You know that. I speak the truth. Give yourself over to me and you will know more than you have ever known.”

The words rang crisp and clear in Ryson’s ears. He heard them, understood them. Every syllable she spoke cut through the fog, cut through the confusion. Yet both remained after the echo of her words died away. He could not order his own thoughts, or make his own decisions or judgments. Her words were so simple, so profoundly true. He could not help but accept everything she said, simply because she said them.

He stood still, captivated by the eyes which somehow stood out from the darkness. No other movement detracted his attention. She also appeared to stand motionless, even as she crept closer.

She now stood within arm’s reach. The bewitching words ceased to flow from her lips. All encompassing silence. The birds, the insects, all sounds of the surrounding forest and hills halted. Even the crackling of the fire died away. Was it the cloud in his head which blocked out the sound, or did even fire obey the command of the vampire?

Ryson stood in no condition to consider the question. The heaviness of the moment drowned out nearly all consciousness. He slouched, but remained on his feet, and continued staring into the emerald eyes.

She was on him. She held him with the same grip as she held the tracker, pulled him toward her with the same force. Her eyes remained locked with his as she pulled him closer, and he could not resist her.

Ryson was not even certain what was happening. The fog rolled through his mind even when her nails cut into his own shoulder, just as they broke the skin of the tracker. He did not feel the pain. He did not feel fear, until she turned her eyes to his bare throat. With the break in the stare, a small degree of the confusion and the fog lifted. He knew where he was and what was about to happen. He felt the piercing pain in his upper arms from her grip.

The small hole in the blanketing fog gave way at first to a scream of fear. Then, miraculously, his delver instincts rushed through the gap. He was aware he was in great danger. He needed to save himself.

Instinctively, his fingers found the handle of the Sword of Decree. As his hand encircled the hilt, all confusion and doubt evaporated, cast away like the outgoing tide. A certainty - a sharp purpose and understanding filled his mind. This was no dream and he was not insane. He could feel the energies of the sword rise through his arm. He even felt the energies that filled the air. He sensed their impurities, the taint given to them by the sphere, but he acknowledged their presence. The sphere was real, the goblins were real, the shag was real, even this vampire was real. And he knew now how to deal with her.

It was at that moment that delver swiftness saved his life, saved his soul. His right arm free, except for at the shoulder, he pulled at the hilt with all the speed he could muster. The blade came free of its sheath and stood boldly out in the night air.

Just as the vampire was about to sink her teeth into her second victim, she howled in pain. She released her hold on the delver and stumbled away.

Ryson Acumen held the sword proudly and showed not the slightest sign of surprise. The firelight, as well as the distant starlight, radiated off the sword with magnified brilliance. The campsite was as bright as noon day, and the beams of light burned the revealed skin of the vampire.

“Vampires hate the light, don’t they?” Ryson growled with anger. In this one encounter, he would learn to hate vampires over all the other creatures of the dark. He loathed having his mind controlled, despised the powers to confuse and entice with false hopes. He cursed them. He cursed the vampire and would never forget what she had been able to do to him. In that moment, he wanted revenge. “Fire can’t harm you, but this light can. It’s not just fire, it’s the starlight magnified. It’s as harmful to you as the sun.”

The woman, now hunched over but still on her feet, did not reply. She made a quick break for the darkness and the safety of the trees. Her speed was surprising, but no match for the delver’s.

He cut her off with ease and again held the sword to her face. “You’re not getting away.”

She hissed. Her face was now clear to him, revealed by the light of the sword. Pasty gray skin clung closely to her skull. The eyes, which were now more gray than green, retracted into her sockets. Long eyelashes, a petite nose, and blood red lips gave the sorrowful feeling that she attempted to appear more feminine than the rest of her face would allow. That same face now contained two scorch marks, one on