CIRCLE OF SHADOWS Part 1: Shadow Chaser
† 29 - daemon sight †

Virian stares at Galen, her mouth set in straight line and then she asks gently.

‘What was wrong with your eyes? And what did you see?’

‘I suppose you could call it a gift given to me for being Necra. As far as I remember, it is called Deaths Sight.’

‘Deaths Sight? What is that?’

Her breath catches in her throat as she asks the questions, silently dreading the answers her questions will lead too.

Sighing softly, Galen shakes his head, steadies himself with his hand on the wood pile and then says in a terse voice.

‘Your questions will have to wait till later, Virian. Right now there is a stalker daemon over there and right now I am the only one here that can see it other then the one that has summoned it to this plain from the upper spheres. If you want to live, you will have to trust me and not question anything I am about to say or do.’

Galen holds his hand up just as Virian opens her mouth, hastily forestalling another question from bubbling uncontrollably from her lips.

‘Please Virian. Stay here! Stay quiet! No matter what happens, do not try and help me. You will die!’

‘But how can you defeat it? You do not even remember how to use your powers if you ever had any!’

Exasperation makes her words sting more then she means and she grabs Galen’s hand, clenching it tightly between her own, tears of frustration pooling in her eyes.

‘The gift of Sight was automatically restored to me, so I must trust that the rest will come to me as well.’

Wrenching his hands from her grip, he grabs her firmly by the shoulders and looks her in the eyes.

‘Guard against surprise attack. They will follow as soon as they realise the beast has located its prey. As soon as I have drawn the beasts’ attention to myself, get away as swiftly as possible. Head to Feesh. I will catch up with you when I am able.’

Clenching her jaws resolutely Virian nods her head and then shuffles back as Galen returns his gaze to where the Stalker stands.

His blue eyes instantly changes back to orbs filled with indigo, seeming completely lifeless and unblinking as he watches the beast in silence.

Kneeling despondently next to the others, Virian describes their situation, all of them glancing at one stage or the other at Galen’s still form.

Nodding in agreement they ready themselves, their minds set on reaching the far wall and gaining the woodlands beyond. Gripping their weapons in white knuckled suspense, they kneel at the far edge of the wood pile, waiting silently for the

signal.

Galen crouches quietly, completely at ease at the other end of the woodpile, his eyes focussed intently on the immense Daemon. The daemon creeps around on all fours, intermittently swinging its large nasal cavities through the air, sniffing and snorting for any scent riding on the currents flowing through the air, only a few yards away from Galen.

Its massive claws, several razor sharp talons, serrated and curving towards the front, gouge into the hard packed ground as it moves around, small puffs of dust lifting gently into the air, only to settle down undisturbed in the beasts’ wake.

Ochre coloured skin, mottled with streaks of black arching jaggedly over the shoulders and across its back, ending in dark splotches near the claws.

Immensely powerful muscles ripple under the leather tight skin, bulging thickly underneath its colourful hide, iridescent flashes capturing Galen’s eyes as the daemon moves closer to his hiding place.

Horns sprout viciously from the elongated head, three smaller ones protruding stumpy in front of three curving points, arching high into the air to cascade around the daemons’ head like a necklace. Yellow green fangs stick from its beak, sharp edges stabbing in every direction, venom dripping sticky from the ends.

Small, lidless white eyes set narrowly together above the

flaring nostrils, flick rapidly around the yard, the intelligence in them almost nonexistent. The vicious creatures’ mind only able to do only the smallest of tasks given it by its summoner.

Galen inhales slowly as he regards the beast distastefully, a deeply ingrained hatred bubbling through his blood, inflaming his senses with indignation and the white hot flare of magic awakened.

Sensing a change in the fabric that makes up the flow the daemon swings its head in Galen’s direction, its white eyes focussing solely on him as the flare of pent up power burns brightly into its mind.

A low growl rumbles from the daemons’ throat as it lurches up unto its hind legs in a defensive posture, slowly circling towards Galen’s hiding place.

Galen casts a glance to where Virian and the others wait, all four crouching, ready to dash to the back wall at his signal, then growling, the sound emanating from deep in his chest he pushes himself up and out from behind his hiding place. Sword swiping menacingly through the air, a deathly arc of gleaming steel he exposes him self to the beasts’ searching eyes.

A loud roar rips from the throat of the daemon as it swerves its narrow head around its eyes pinned on the figure standing before it. It ambles closer, hesitates, and then painstakingly slow, creeps forwards.

Sensing Virian’s eyes on his back, Galen flicks another quick glance towards her, nods his head and then focuses all his attention on the daemon approaching him.

Galen roars as he springs forwards, swivelling on his toes he twirls around the snapping beak of the daemon, swings the sword in a low arc as he passes the beasts’ head, and with a fluid cut, slices the leathery skin covering the front leg.

Screaming in anger the beast swings around and lunges at Galen, turning its back on the woodpile as it advances.

Green blood seeping from the laceration on its leg the beast snuffles the air, eyes glinting with a mad fervour as it watches Galen.

Glancing over the bulky form of the daemon, Galen spots the four springing up from their hiding place and running madly for the back wall. Hearing the soft trample of feet behind it the beast begins to turn its head, and Galen lunges forwards and stabs the sword into the beasts’ neck, the point barely denting the thick skin.

With an indignant scream the best swerves its head back, jaws snapping, yellow froth splattering across the ground.

Chuckling, Galen twirls his sword around teasingly, coaxing the beast and keeping its attention fixed on him. The beast swings its head side to side, teeth glistening wetly, claws scraping the hard packed earth. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Eyes locked together, Galen and the beast circle each other,

searching for a weakness. Galen lunges, spins out of the rush gracefully and bangs the sword loudly against the base of the daemons’ head, the shock reverberating up his arm.

The beast howls in pain as a thin stripe of green blood seep from the shallow cut, swipes a claw towards Galens’ feet, its mouth snapping a few inches from Galens’ shoulder. Dropping to his knees Galen swings the sword over his head, banging the edge against the beasts head and then rolls a few feet away, barely out of the reach of the serrated talons.

Breathing heavily Galen watches the beast turn to face him, saliva hanging in slithery tendrils from the sharp beak.

‘Please help me.’

Galen whispers under his breath as he looks imploringly into the grey sky, the sun just beginning to peek over the rooftops.

The beast suddenly storms forwards, muscles rippling under the skin as it hurdles towards Galen. Indigo eyes lock with white. Everything slows down. Inhaling deeply, Galen drops into a crouch, knees slightly bent, muscles tightly coiled.

The beast lumbers into reach and swings one claw at Galens’ head, following closely behind it with the other aiming for his stomach, hoping to disembowel him. Jumping back slightly Galen avoids the talons and twisting on his heels he dives in the other direction, passing right underneath the elongated neck. Turning in mid air, Galen drags the sword heavily across the tendons running underneath the neck, scoring deep gouges

that immediately begin to seep.

Tucking into a ball, Galen lands on his back and springs up, sword waving in front of him as the best rears back its head, screaming in agony.

Galen looks at the beast as he wipes away the sweat running down his brow with his arm. Energy courses through his veins, his muscles burning from the exertion as he faces the beast.

Galen grins insanely, eyes wide with excitement.

Looking over her shoulder at Galen, Virian grips her crossbow tightly in her hand, sweat running tickly down her arm as she nervously awaits his signal. Siril and Talli wait crouching a few inches in front of her, with Dallin squatting a small distance behind Gawayn who is kneeling at the front.

An ear piercing roar erupts from across the yard, and glancing over they all frown confused.

The yard remains empty, but for a few tufts of dust lifting languidly in the air. Staring at Galen as he pushes himself from his hiding place, Virian holds her breath, acknowledges the small nods Galen gives her and then gets ready for the sprint of her life. A sprint from what only Galen knows the answer too.

Galen roars back and lunges forwards, sword glinting menacingly in the faint light as he spins and twirls in a tight circle, slicing through the air.

A soft thud reaches her ears.

An angry scream rips from nowhere.

The sound reaching tones no human can mimic.

Completely unnatural in essence.

Shivers run down her spine, her flesh prickles across her body and the hair in the nape of her neck rise.

A green line appears in midair, a few inches from the ground and she shakes her head, rubs at her eyes in disbelieve.

‘It can’t be.’ She gasps softly.

Seeing Galen turn to face them, she urges the others to sprint from behind the woodpile, and they cut across the yard to the far back wall.

Their footfalls pound loudly in her ears as they stampede rapidly over the sandy ground, her breath burning in her chest. As they come closer to the wall she hears another scream and almost lurches to a halt, but resolutely pushes herself on.

Breathless, chests heaving from the exertion, they stumble to a halt.

Looming up before them is the wall. The wooden planks, cracked and spotted with holes, stand nailed together almost eight feet high. Leaves rustle behind this barrier, teasingly beckoning the freedom that lies only a few inches away.

A knotted tree branch hangs limply over the top of the wall, the leaves bright green in the rising sunlight, moisture still caught on the fibrous lining covering the leaves.

A startled squirrel huff and squawk agitated at the intruders, its limbs spread stiffly, nails tightly gripping the gnarled bark of the old oak.

They turn as another scream of agony rips through the quiet morning air, and as one turn back towards the wall.

‘Gawayn! Help my father and Talli over first. I will guard our backs.’

Virian’s voice comes strangled as she gasps for air; she turns and rests the crossbow across her forearm, eyes flicking side to side as she scans the yard for any sign of attack.

‘Siril.’

Gawayn motions to the old man gently helping him forwards to the bottom of the wall. Kneeling beside him he looks over at the younger Dallin.

‘Dallin, I will lift you up first. Straddle your legs across the fence, and pull Siril up and over when I lift him up.’

Dallin nods his head, places his left foot into Gawayn’s waiting hand and as he lifts him up, grips the top of the fence tightly and pulls himself nimbly up.

Dangling unsteadily he swings one foot over the top, hooks it as best he can on the other side and then steadies himself with one hand.

‘Ready.’ Dallin says after he had scanned the woodland standing behind him.

Siril nods his head as Gawayn extends a hand towards him,

moves quickly forwards and then gingerly places his foot into Gawayn’s waiting hands.

Virian watches their progress with one eye, nodding satisfied as Siril reaches up and Dallin grips his old arm in his hands and pulls him up and over, gently lowering him on the other side.

Talli quickly follows her father and Gawayn moves closer towards Virian, touching her gently on the shoulder.

‘You have to go now, Virian.’ He says softly.

She looks at him, glances towards the wall and then back to where Galen had been fighting.

‘Is there nothing we can do to help him?’ she asks mournfully.

‘He said we should get away.’

Virian looks pleadingly up at Gawayn’s face, her eyes slightly tearful. Clenching her teeth she nods her head, turns around and walks to the wall. The squirrel honks at her as she stands beneath the limp branch, and she glances irritably up at it.

‘Let’s do it then!’ her voice sharp as she slings the crossbow across her shoulder.

Gawayn lingers momentarily to look across the yard, but then turns, bends his back resigned and hooks his hands together to make a cup.

’Keep watch when you get on the other side. Something still

feels wrong.’ He says tensely as he looks up into Virian’s

face.

Virian dips her chin, steadies herself on his shoulder then jumps up as she feel Gawayn push up with his hands. Dallin grabs her by the wrist and pulls her roughly higher till she can grapple the top of the fence and pull herself up and over.

Sitting perched on the fence Dallin peers across the yard to where Galen stands resting, sword glinting brightly in the sun, that’s continually creeping higher into the sky. Frowning he stares, narrows his eyes, but still unable to see anything but Galen, he lowers his gaze to where Gawayn stands waiting.

‘If you are ready, I would like to get over the wall too. Grab a hold of the rope I am throwing to you.’

Gawayn’s voice cold as he readies the rope dangling in his hands.

Dallin nods ashamedly, blushes a deep red and then grabs the tip of the rope as it snakes towards him. Sighing at his own stupidity he lowers the rope to Virian where she stands waiting, arms crooked into her hips.

‘Tell Gawayn to wait till I have tied it to one of the trees.’

Virian’s voice floats up to him as she turns around and walks over to the sturdy oak behind her.

Dallin relays the message, looks over to where Galen begins a new twirling dance of movement and then reluctantly tears his eyes away and lowers himself gently to the ground, landing

with a thud next to Talli.

After what seems ages, he finally spots Gawayn’s fingers reaching over the top of the fence. Gawayn lands heavily next to them, breathing hard and sweating profusely in the mild heat, but jumps up suddenly, hand reaching for his dagger.

‘Someone comes!’ he says tensely.

‘I know.’

Virian’s reply is short as she pulls the crossbow from her shoulder and swings it around, aiming steadily into the surrounding woods.

Talli and Dallin unsheathe their knives while Siril inches closer to Virian. Stopping next to her he begins to hum softly, preparing himself to strike with what power he has in him, his eyes beginning to glaze over gradually with each breath.

Soft rustles echo through the underbrush, dry branches crack loudly as something comes closer. A clump of leaves shake a few yards away, a low growing bramble bush rattling to their left.

Clumping closer together they wait. Weapons glinting dimly, the morning has not yet come to light the dark woodland, shadows lie thick across the leave covered floor and darkness surrounds them in its stifling grip.

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