Chosen: Book 1 in the Ancients of Light series

by Heather Fleener

  The icy light of her eyes had brightened and they were ringed in the vivid blue of her magic. With authority, her hand had swept towards the panicked group as she instructed, “We must seek the protection of the keep.” Kaitriana and Kendrick had kept watch over the mass exodus of the witches back to the safety of the protected walls. As Cordelia had passed, Kaitriana had felt the glare of anger directed to her before it had been concealed behind a smile of gratitude for the benefit of Kendrick.

  By the time Kaitriana and Kendrick had followed, the eager telling of the display of her amazing magic was finished by one of the younger Warrior witches to all within the manor. Kaitriana had experienced a sick knot of dread in her stomach as all eyes riveted on her at her appearance. Her gaze had first sought Myrrdyn and the anger evident in his piercing eyes caused hers to dart away, only to land upon the inscrutable countenance of Lorcan himself. Her breath had rushed from her as she held that steely gray stare.

  Kaitriana had begun worriedly chewing on her lower lip…what would he do in response to the report of her powers and her slaying of the vampires? Face still unreadable, Lorcan had given her a slight nod of greeting. A smile had formed at the corner of his lips and she could have sworn he had winked at her before he had returned his attention to the Witch elders. All of them had still been gaping at her as though she had grown a second head.

  The exchange between the young Witch and the Warrior of Light had not gone unnoticed entirely; two had taken special note. Myrrdyn’s mind had already been trying to fathom how the appearance of Lorcan and the revealing of his little girl’s powers would play into the ultimate plan for the Light, while Kaitriana’s wicked rival had already begun thinking how the connection between the two could be used to suit her purpose.

  One elder had the thought to demand, while forgetting the presence of the Vampire in the group, “Is the girl the Chosen, Myrrdyn?”

  Kaitriana had been shaken with the understanding that Myrrdyn was furious. She had not known what to make of Lorcan’s acknowledgement of her; she had suspected he may well be furious too, particularly then at the suggestion that she was the prophesied female. Her secret was out. All present knew that she possessed great magic and a substantial amount. Without waiting to hear Myrrdyn’s reply, she had fled. Unbeknownst to Kaitriana, her rival had trailed slowly behind and had flagged down two Darks loitering at the far edge of the woods as she did.

  CHAPTER 5

  Kaitriana released a shaky breath as she righted herself in the bed once more. Her eyes registered her surroundings…Laverock, the abandoned Warrior Caste estate. The visions were swamping her again and she tucked her knees under her chin as she rushed through the final memories from that night five hundred years ago.

  Cordelia had come to her that same night at her parents’ camp, with an offer of thanks and a message that Lorcan would be waiting for her two hours hence at the loch. Kaitriana had spent a full hour in the cold moonlight at the water’s edge before she had begun to believe that Cordelia had mistaken the message. She had realized only on returning to camp that it was no mistake but rather a deadly deception. Two Darks had held her parents kneeling near the fire in the center of the encampment and made the offer she had had no choice but to accept. She had recalled seeing Cordelia wandering off through the woods and had been sickened by the betrayal of her own kind.

  Kaitriana had been told to let them try to transition her and in exchange they would spare her parents. Lord Rhydach wanted to end the Prophecy and turn her to his purpose, if possible. If the transition was unsuccessful, as it most likely would be, the Ancient Dark would still be satisfied as the Chosen would be dead. One of the Darks had flashed a bejeweled vial at her, “All it will take is a few sips, pretty.”

  Despite her parents’ earnest protests, she had accepted their terms. Her body had broken out in a cold sweat as the pain had swept her while submitting to that enemy’s bite. As he had drained her, her legs had given out from under her and she had been too weak to utter a cry as the other bastard had swung his broadsword and had ended her parents. She remembered praying that she too would die just as the vial was tipped to her lips and she had fallen into darkness.

  God had apparently not been in the mood to grant her prayers that night. She had gained consciousness rather quickly, too quickly for a normal transition. Kaitriana had known that much of the Vampire species. The evil ones had still been cackling about the death of the two witches, Myrrdyn’s own daughter even. They had further speculated on their anticipated rewards for that and for bringing the girl to Rhydach, whether dead transitioned.

  Her mind had been aware enough to hear the mention of the vial and reference to it containing Lorcan’s blood. They had idly discussed whether the blood of the Warrior of Light would be strong enough to illicit the transition of a witch. Rhydach’s ancient blood had shown no success and Lorcan was the only one of the Witch species to have ever survived a transition to Vampire. She remembered numbly having been thankful that it was not the taste of the blood of the Ancient Dark lord that lingered in her mouth but that of her Warrior friend.

  Kaitriana had sensed at that time, the same time that she had gained a scent of him, Myrrdyn’s presence. Her head had buzzed at that…should she be able to scent him? Simultaneously her lids had opened a slit. She had realized to her shock that her captors were distanced from her, on the far side of the encampment, but she had been able to hear their musings as if she had stood within the circle of conversation with them. Finally, she had caught the smell of her parents’ blood and that had brought forth the need to retch. It also had raised a fury in her that she had had no hope of controlling.

  Even as she had seen Myrrdyn move within the line of sight of the Darks, a confrontation imminent as he had taken in the fallen bodies of his kin, she had been struggling to gain her feet. Her head spun but she had finally mustered through her disorientation to gain full ground. With their attention focused solely on the threat presented by Myrrdyn and knowing they could not shadow away without their prize, the Darks had prepared to engage the Sorcerer of Light. They had not seen the danger that had loomed behind all until it had been too late.

  The smaller, the one that had struck the death blow to her parents, had spied her movement before the others. His face had become ghastly pale as he had muttered, “Impossible.” Myrrdyn and the elder Dark had turned in time to see her clench her fist and raise it towards the killer. He had attempted to shadow, caring then more to save his own neck than for Rhydach’s wrath, but he had come up short. The wind had begun to gust and lightning streaked wild patterns in the sky. A small smile had touched her lips as she had whispered, “No no no.” Myrrdyn assumed she had bound the vampires’ abilities. It was no easy task for any witch but she had exerted no visible effort.

  Indicative of a Vampire rage, her eyes had blackened, but eerily glowing rings of blue had edged them. Standing still, Kaitriana had elicited a scream of anguish from the vampire with only a slight twitch of her head. A second later his head had torn loose and rolled to the ground. With the skin of each hand encased entirely in blue light, her gaze had fixated on the second.

  Myrrdyn had stepped into the path of her vision, instructing her that he would have use of the other Dark and commanding her to cease. The rage that had been surging within her and the power that it unleashed would not allow her to obey his order. Myrrdyn had grimaced as he heard the pops and crackling of bones snapping within the vampire. The Sorcerer had then taken her down himself.

  Kaitriana had had no defense against the power of his magic; her own had been focused solely on driving pain through the evil creature.

  CHAPTER 6

  Her tears had ceased along with the trembling of her hands when she broke from her reverie of that night so long ago. Consciously Kaitriana decided that this would be the last time she would relive what had brought her to this current circumstance, making a silent vow that those responsible would find themselves in the path of a vengeful witch, wielding t
he powers of the Chosen.

  Kaitriana realized that her awakening this night was due to the call of the Prophecy, that it was now time to assume her rightful place in the Realm. She also knew through Myrrdyn’s shared memories that he had put her under until she could gain control of the magic that had threatened to consume her. She had survived the transition, by the power of her own blood combined with Lorcan’s. Myrrdyn had placed her in a deep hibernation before the stages that normally accompanied a body’s final transition to the Vampire state, so it was unknown whether she would fully transition or just remain a hybrid of mixed traits. Kaitriana had not yet had fangs or thirst when he had set her to slumber and she did not have them now, though the heightened Vampire senses had developed.

  Myrrdyn had sent the other perpetrator of that night’s evil back to Rhydach healed and with false memories of a fight that had ensued and the demise of Kaitriana, her parents and his comrade. Myrrdyn had then reported the slayings to the Witch elders, still at the keep in talks with Lorcan. Kaitriana wondered now if in that memory from Myrrdyn she had subconsciously embellished the look of crushing pain that had swept Lorcan’s face at the report. Another tear slipped slowly down her cheek.

  Gaining control over the swirling visions, the last receded and Kaitriana pushed the tangled curls back from her face before clutching at her head. Much had changed in the Realm and in the world during the five centuries she had been away, though the battle between the Light and Dark had never ceased. The strength of the Light had suffered greatly when the last of the Witch Queens had died well before her birth, but since Kaitriana had exited, much of the world seemed to have fallen under Rhydach’s control. The Light was failing in its purpose to keep the evil from infiltrating mankind.

  During her earlier life, the Darks had mainly been contained within the remote countrysides of the area that the humans called Europe and only occasionally crossed paths with the mortals. With the assistance of magic from the Realm’s inhabitants, the unpopulated vast landscapes had allowed the ongoings of the Realm to remain well-hidden from the occupants of the land they shared.

  Rhydach had apparently capitalized on the technology boom of the twenty-first century and now his evil encroached on other areas of the world. He threatened both mankind and the secrecy of the immortals that comprised the Realm. Myrrdyn’s memories also had given her the understanding that many former members of both Light and Dark factions had ceased their affiliation with the Realm entirely and sought anonymous existence amongst the human population. The exodus of immortals was much greater now than in the times prior to her absence. All of it was troubling.

  Gingerly Kaitriana swung her legs over the bed; she had control of her body once more. Though the dull ache at the base of her head lingered, she felt stronger. Her gaze captured the stone walls of her surroundings and the rich décor of the room that she occupied, though she knew that the richness of her surroundings ended at the door. She was at Laverock, the childhood home of the Warrior of Light, the old castle that had once been the glory of the Warrior Caste.

  Even before the last recollection had left her, the thoughts had begun to form and she already knew the path she would follow this night. A wicked smile played over her lips as she idly waved her hand and the garb she chose for the evening appeared. She would be a vision in the white gown, embellished with the gold threaded designs that bespoke her identification with the Warrior Caste of Witch. Her attention was drawn by a piece of paper under the chalice…cup… on the nightstand. Leaning forward, her senses could pick up the sweet scent of wine as she recognized the scrawl of her grandfather’s script…

  Kaitriana –

  Assume your Rightful Place this eve.

  The Witch and the Vampire, two of Birth and of Right, joined shall bring the Light to its Purpose and banish the Dark.

  - Grandpapa, the Sorcerer of Light

  Kaitriana laughed, as if she needed a reminder of exactly who he was. She brightened immediately with the understanding the despite her mix of Vampire and Witch traits, Myrrdyn still held that she was the Chosen. She would unite the two Light factions once more and finally bring end to Rhydach and his kind.

  Shaking off the lingering sadness - there would be time to mourn after - she pushed free of the bedding and shuffled in the direction of the door on the south wall of the room. She knew without doubt that Myrrdyn had installed for her one of those modern bathing chambers…she grasped for the word…shower. Her mission could be forestalled long enough for her to make sure she was splendid for her revenge.

  Aye, Kaitriana was aware that together Rhydach and Cordelia had ravaged the Light with destruction and death while she slept. Her one-time rival had become a consort to her enemy and a mate to the Ancient Dark leader. But no more, their reign would begin to crumble tonight. This eve Kaitriana would begin the war that would lead to the end of the Darks.

  Her mind was set on finding the one that had yet to be punished for the death of her parents; she would give the killer his real memories again, right before she crushed every bone within him. She would destroy all that was Rhydach’s in her path of vengeance. Lightning danced high in the sky outside the windows of the chamber as she pushed through the doorway on the far wall. Her sigh of delight at viewing the plush chamber echoed behind.

  CHAPTER 7

  Jortha shouldered through the massive oak and iron laden doors into the private gathering chamber of the Elite, his face paled in panic and strained with the pain that quick movement caused his old injury. Lorcan’s head shifted in his direction and he perused the witch slowly. He could tell that something had agitated Jortha.

  After a brief and impatient look at the warriors gathered around, he stood. A sigh accompanied his query while rubbing his forehead wearily, “What troubles you so this eve Jortha, that you would eagerly join me in a room filled with your enemy?” Lorcan glanced back meaningfully at his companions before settling his gaze on Jortha.

  The young witch stopped just short of the table, no heed given to the foe that lingered close. In Lorcan’s presence he feared them not. The news he carried required the interruption, “Sir, there is something seriously amiss this night; I have felt nothing like this in my existence.”

  Alarmed panics were not Jortha’s norm, nor were exaggerations or ventures into any gathering of the Vampire. Lorcan had saved Jortha over two centuries past from a pack of Darks ready to feast on him, after they had wet their appetites with a bit of sadistic torture. Lorcan had no stomach for the twisted evil of the Dark and Jortha had benefited from it that night, though some scars remained all these years later. The witch had yet to trust any of Vampire descent, Light or Dark, save Lorcan. Jortha was well within his rights to such feeling given his past and the ongoing animosity that existed between his own kind and Lorcan’s breed.

  Lorcan’s gaze drifted down to Jortha’s crippled leg as he shook off the memory, “What exactly are you speaking of, Witch? There are many things in the Realm you have yet to experience, your existence encompasses all of two hundred and sixty-eight years.”

  He was not being snide, merely stating the facts; however, snickers ensued at the table. Lorcan turned a cold stare. Though he was not overly fond of witches, the boy had grown on him while in his care. Truthfully, Lorcan had not been able to rid himself of the witch upon Jortha’s recovery, but witch or not, he would not tolerate cruelty towards Jortha from his own. The snickering ceased.

  Jortha tilted his head a notch, lifting his chin just as he regained Lorcan’s attention. “Two hundred and seventy-two.”

  “What?” Lorcan’s confused question was indicative of his distraction.

  Jortha took a slight step back at the impatience in Lorcan’s tone but his chin remained high. “I said, two hundred and seventy-two years. I have been in existence that long, and in all of that time, I have felt nothing of this sort in the Realm.”

  Few in the Coven much less in the Realm had the audacity to correct Lorcan on his mistakes, especially one so minor
as this. His fierce reputation left none that would carelessly cross him. He was, however, in good spirits this eve. Well fed and warm within the confines of his favorite manor, Lorcan was much looking forward to enjoying the remainder of the night with all the comforts and pleasures that being lord of the house afforded him. There were some comely new vampires within the walls and he had the intention to slake every thirst that the last long siege at Elkirk’s manse had forced on him. Just as soon as he finished this debriefing with the Elite and this interruption was beginning to try his patience.

  Lorcan resolved to not let this night be ruined though and forced himself to shake off the irritation at the delay. He coupled his grave nod to Jortha’s words with a bemused smile, “What is happening Jortha that has gone unwitnessed during the span of your two hundred and seventy- two years, and is causing you such upset?”

  Jortha’s expression remained serious despite his lord’s teasing. He knew the import of his message and that Lorcan believe him and take precautions immediately. Straightening to his full height, he earnestly explained in a hushed tone, “There is great power Sir, great new power moving through the Realm. It brings tremendous destruction. This magic is stronger than any I have ever sensed, even in Myrrdyn’s presence.”

  Lorcan’s right hand lowered in habit to the hilt of the sword. His tone was short, “Good or evil?” Jortha seemed at a loss, the question causing the witch to shuffle his feet on the stones of the floor. Lorcan lifted his hands to Jortha’s shoulders, gentled his tone, and peered down into Jortha’s unseeing eyes, “Son, is it of the Light or of the Dark?” Though Jortha had suffered the loss of his sight at the hand of those Dark beings, he had gained uncanny abilities to detect things that others of the Realm could not. His power, seer-like and nearly so strong as to rival Myrrdyn’s own, had proven true and of great asset to Lorcan in his quests.