The Bringer of War (The Sheynan Trilogy Book 2)

by Dylan Birtolo

  “You’ve tempted me with information long enough I’m beginning to wonder if you have it. I’d advise against keeping the bait hanging for too long.”

  “I’m sorry, my queen. I, your first and most loyal subject, request services that only you may provide.” He flourished his right hand and gave the best imitation of a formal bow he could from a sitting position.

  “Tell me. Now.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. He follows me every night. He comes to the dark tunnel. He found two of my homes already and waits for me there sometimes. He’s determined and kills the mice. No questions. He just kills them all. He will not run away.”

  “Where is he now? Give me a quick answer.”

  “I don’t know. I hide from him. He’d kill me if I didn’t hide. He’s down here somewhere; somewhere in the tunnels.”

  Bridget’s lip curled and her fists once again tightened. “Do you know anything useful? What kind of shifter is he?”

  “An owl. His eyes find the mice, even in their comfy homes. His claws pierce their flesh, and his beak…” he shuddered. “His beak crunches down and rips their heads off. He drops them, my only friends, into the water. They float to me. I see them as they travel past.”

  Bridget had what she needed. She offered a brief nod as way of dismissal, then turned and walked away into the darkness. She heard Twitch giggling in the darkness behind her and ranting, something about how she was the huntress and the tunnels would be his again. She didn’t pay it any attention. She was anxious to do this task so she could once again be above ground.

  Once she was far enough away that his comments faded to silence and all she could hear was the trickle of water, Bridget stopped. She closed her eyes and listened, but heard nothing. She shifted, and in less time than it took to blink, she turned into a bat. She screeched, using the sound to paint a picture of her surroundings in her mind.

  Bridget flew down the tunnels, making an expanding circle as she explored. This form let her move faster and gave her a more complete picture of everything around her, regardless of whether or not there was light. After an unknown number of turns, she found what she assumed was her prey. A man without any gear or safety line walked down the sewer tunnels, stopping to peer around corners and explore alcoves.

  Bridget settled to the ground and forced herself to shift back into a human form, wearing the suit she had on when she met with Twitch. As she walked forward, her heels struck the stones with a sharp clack, announcing her presence long before she could be seen.

  “Who’s there?”

  “I come with news from the conclave. I have a message for you.”

  The man turned on a flashlight with a click, the beam of light sweeping across the tunnel until it bathed Bridget in its glow. She raised her hand in front of her eyes but kept walking forward at a steady pace.

  “What’s your name?”

  She could tell he was nervous by the tremor in his voice and the way the beam shook.

  “Do you mind not shining the light in my face? I don’t want to fall in the sewage because you were blinding me.”

  He lowered the light so that the crest came just underneath her chin. “Stop right there. You still haven’t told me who you are.”

  “I’m Bridget Ellison.”

  He took a reflexive step backwards with his mouth open. Bridget smiled and shifted into an alligator with the same threatening grin on her face. She rushed forward with startling speed. The young man turned and ran a few steps, dropping the light in his haste. It clattered to the stones and rolled to a stop against the wall. Bridget brushed past it, swatting it with a random swing of her tail. She opened her large maw as she drew close and snapped her jaws shut on the man’s leg.

  He screamed and fell face-first onto the walkway. His fingers scratched against the floor, trying to find something to hold on to. The alligator pulled on the man’s leg and dragged him toward the murky waters. His screams reverberated through the maze of tunnels until he was forced underwater. He thrashed about, trying to find something to grab onto.

  Under the water, Bridget felt a crack more than she heard it. The man was still. She gave his leg a couple of tugs, but he didn’t respond. When she let go, his corpse floated face-down on the water. Bridget crawled out of the water on the opposite bank. Once she moved to a relatively dry spot of ground, she shifted back into a human once more. Her skin was damp and the clothes stuck against her.

  It would take forever to get the stink out of these clothes, if it was even possible. She’d probably just have to throw them out. It was a shame; she liked this suit.

  Bridget walked to the nearest ladder and straightened her clothes as best as she was able in her current condition. Then she ran her fingers through her hair, just enough to make sure there were no tangles. Satisfied that she was at least presentable, she climbed up the rungs to the light above. At the top rung she took a last glance at the corpse floating on the river of filth. She smiled, and then climbed into the alley.

  Chapter 3

  Darien rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and stretched, all while letting out a big yawn. He laced his fingers together above his head and arched his back. The ground was soft and plush underneath him. The grass felt like a buoyant cloud gently keeping him from touching the earth. The breeze carried a faint odor of pollen, but not enough to cause him to sneeze.

  He sat up and glanced around. A green field stretched in every direction. Far to his right, brown mountains reached up and strained to kiss the clouds like an eager lover. To his left, he saw a large stone cathedral. He heard running water swirling and splashing from somewhere off in the distance, but couldn’t be sure which direction. The single feature that captured his attention was the man standing between him and the cathedral.

  While everything else had a faint haze and indistinct quality to it, the stranger was in clear focus. He wore a black trench coat that was open with the sides of it flapping in the breeze. He was tall and had a solid frame, but didn’t appear muscular. His hair was long and dark, with the strands dancing behind him, playing in the wind.

  Once they made eye contact, the man walked towards Darien. It seemed as if he moved with a supernatural grace, barely parting the blades of grass as he walked. At a distance of about fifteen feet, he stopped, staring expectantly with eyes so black the pupils couldn’t be distinguished.

  Darien stood up and brushed the dirt off with a careless motion, paying more attention to the man in front of him. He bent his knees and tensed, ready to bolt at the slightest warning. The wind seemed to respond in kind, picking up in intensity.

  “Who are you?”

  The other man pulled his hands out of his pockets and held them at his sides with the palms facing out.

  “My name is Gregory Marks, and I did not come here to threaten you. I came here to speak with you, Darien Yost.”

  “I’ve never heard of you. How do you know who I am?”

  “That surely can’t be a new experience for you at this stage in your life. You are something of a celebrity amongst our kind—the shifter not limited to one single animal, able to take the form of any living creature. Sheynan. With that status your reputation and identity will spread beyond those with whom you have direct interaction. This will only happen with increasing frequency as you get older. Whether you like it or not, the reality is that you are one of those people cursed to have others seek you out because of your fame.”

  “Sounds like my life story for the last three months.”

  “I have heard of you, Darien, and wanted to meet you for myself. If you have no desire to converse, I will depart.”

  Gregory tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat. He turned his back to Darien and walked toward the church. Darien began to relax as soon as Gregory had turned away. The wind matched his mood, dropping to a gentle caress.

  “Wait!”

  Gregory stopped and looked over his right shoulder without turning.

  “Yes?”

  Darien walked
to catch up to Gregory. “Sorry, it’s just that the last few months made me a little jumpy. It seems like every time strangers show up, it’s a bad omen.”

  “Once again, my advice would be to get accustomed to it. Most shifters you meet are going to conspire to use you for their own purposes. There are very few people out there, shifters or not, who are philanthropists.”

  “Does that include you?”

  “I have my own agenda, of course. For now, that’s to satisfy my own curiosity. I want to meet the man who in a short amount of time is standing out as a legend among the living fairytales and horror stories we are. I do very little out of charity.”

  Darien caught up to Gregory and the two walked in step in the direction of the cathedral. While he appreciated the frank admission, he wasn’t about to trust this newcomer yet. He may be naïve, but the last three months had taught him much. He remained a few arm lengths away.

  “Since you’re being so forthright, let me return the favor. You with the Shadows or the Arm?”

  “I maintain my own personal interests as the top priority at all times. That is the complete truth, and should also answer your question given your familiarity with both organizations.”

  The grass brushed against Darien’s legs as he walked. It was soft and flexed easily under his weight. When Darien looked back, he saw no path showing the route he had taken. Instead, the grass flowed in visible waves as the wind sighed over the field.

  Turning back to face the cathedral, more details could be distinguished now that they were closer. The front entrance faced them with a tall steeple pointing to the heavens. On the peak there was no cross, but rather a bird in flight clutching the stone point. It gave the appearance that the bird carried the entire church in its grasp. A stained glass window of brilliant reds and yellows reflected the light, but the design was indistinguishable from their current vantage point.

  “What are you? You know, what can you become?”

  “I borrow the strength of the horse when necessary. It is quite exhilarating to run upon a plain such as this.”

  A smile touched Gregory’s lips, the first expression that Darien had seen. It was faint and barely changed the line of his mouth. Darien almost missed it.

  “Is that why you chose this setting?”

  “It was not a decision I made.”

  “You must’ve. This doesn’t feel like it’s my dream. Unless there’s someone else here and it’s his.” Darien peered into the distance, trying to see if anyone was watching from the cathedral.

  “Be at ease. You’re correct; it’s not your dream. It’s not a true dream at all. That is why pieces of it may seem incomplete or insubstantial. What we are walking in right now is a memory. This is no fantasy conjured from the depths of one’s imagination. We are experiencing a moment in history. Specifically, we’re in a moment of our mutual ancestors’ lives.”

  “What’re you talking about? How is this possible?”

  “We all carry with us some memory buried beyond the reach of our conscious mind. How it is possible is not something I can explain, but considering the other aspects of what we are, is the possibility of latent memories that difficult to accept? While I don’t understand the mechanism behind it, I do know that every single one of us, every shifter that exists out there in the world, carries these memories. Different people remember different things and with different depths of clarity. Sometimes, it takes us some time to find these memories, but that does not change the reality of their existence.”

  Darien stopped and bent down to touch the grass, feeling it between his fingers. The blades were thick, with sharp edges that irritated his skin. He whispered to himself, not realizing that he voiced his thoughts. “How come Richard never told me about this?”

  “It’s possible that your mentor did not know. As I said before, we have these memories to different extents. Many shifters, especially those not powerful in the world of dreams, never experience this. Most never do. Or perhaps he does not feel you are ready for such an education.”

  Darien tried to read a trace of emotion on his companion’s face. Gregory continued to walk toward the building, betraying no more emotion than a chunk of marble.

  Now that they were closer, the picture in the stained glass window became clear. The entire background was made of shades of yellow glass. Illustrated on the golden field were multiple figures in red. They formed a circle in the center of the window. Between each shape, a thin ribbon of red connected them so that they were part of a larger whole. Starting at the bottom and moving around the circle, the figures were a man, a bird, a lion, a bear, a horse, a lizard and a mouse.

  “What is this place?”

  “A safe house that used to exist; a place and time where our kind were accepted and would often congregate.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve read many of the old writings and have explored my own memories to the furthest extent possible. It’s the only way we can learn who we are and potentially discover why we are here. I hope to learn more from your memories.”

  “Is that why you’re here? Not to meet me, but because you’re hoping that these memories I’m carrying will hold something for you?”

  “I told you I serve myself foremost. Regardless of whether you believe it, meeting you was my primary interest.”

  Darien stopped. He turned to face Gregory and placed one foot behind him. If he needed to, he was confident that he could outrun Gregory. Unless he shifted into a horse.

  “Why should I trust you?”

  Gregory turned and met Darien’s defiant gaze. “Why shouldn’t you? If I was going to do something malicious, I would have already. I would have done it while you were lying in the field, blissfully unaware of my presence. I seek answers, not conflict. And you are the best chance for me to find those answers, even in your ignorance.”

  “Why should I help you find what you’re searching for?”

  “Darien, I am not your savior. I am not here to illuminate the way and bring you some benefit. I am here for my own reasons. I will help you because, in doing so, it will help me. I am here for myself, and that is all you need to know about me.”

  “And if I decide to explore on my own?”

  “Then you will be lost. You won’t be able to explore it with the advantage of eyes that recognize what they are looking at. I will serve as your guide and provide you information when I can.

  “I will not delve into the depths of my soul and bear forth those secrets to you on a silver platter to satiate your paranoia. My reasons are my own, and I keep them from even those closest to me. It is the road that I choose to walk.”

  Darien considered the offer. If these really were memories, Gregory had already proven himself to be an efficient translator. The information would be helpful. And the only thing he asked for in return was the chance to observe and not be questioned. Darien could understand the latter part. Still, the deal seemed almost too good to be true which made him wary. But for now, he’d play along.

  “Alright, it sounds like a deal. So, Monsieur Tour Guide, where are we?”

  “I do not know. We could be anywhere in Europe. The more appropriate question to ask would be when. My closest guess would be seventeenth century.”

  Darien whistled. “How did you come up with that?”

  “I have only ever heard of buildings like this in very obscure references. I have never seen one in any memory before and our written history only goes back approximately four hundred years.”

  The two men stopped before the massive double doors to the cathedral. Each door was about seven feet tall and made of one solid piece of dark oak. The doors themselves were plain, with no carvings or designs. Each door had one large iron ring attached where the two slabs almost touched.

  Darien reached forward and placed both of his palms against the rough, stained wood. The muscles in his legs tensed as he pushed forward. His feet slipped and he stepped forward to maintain his balance. The door began to slide ope
n, creaking as it moved. He opened it wide enough to slip inside, and then held out his hand for Gregory to go first.

  Once inside, they saw rows of pews stretching forward to a central altar resting on a small elevated floor. Two wings branched out to either side, so that the floor plan of the building formed a cross. Several rows of pews rested in the other arms of the cathedral. Light streamed in from overhead through more stained glass windows recessed in the vaulted ceiling. The theme of red characters on a yellow field was repeated, and each window showed a portrait of a human connected to an animal by a thin ribbon of red glass.

  The building was empty, and the only sound was the howling of the wind as it tried to enter the gap between the front doors. Gregory walked forward between the rows of pews, making his way toward the central dais. Darien followed, trying to memorize everything he saw.

  “This is a safe house? It’s a church.” He heard his own voice echo back to him.

  Gregory held up his hand. Darien froze, straining to notice if anything was out of place. He heard a low whistling sound that soon drowned out the wind. The two men looked at each other, but before either could say anything, a large boulder crashed through the wall in a shower of stones and shattered glass.

  Gregory dove under a pew for cover and Darien ran to an alcove. Before he reached it, another boulder ripped through the wall and collided with the floor. It struck with enough force to knock Darien off his feet. He covered his head to protect it just before shards of glass rained down into his arms.

  Darien scrambled forward on all fours, seeking the relative shelter of the alcove. A third projectile tore through a corner between the ceiling and the wall. Clouds of dust obscured Darien’s vision and collected in his lungs. He coughed in a vain attempt to clear them. Over the sound of the destruction, he heard screams. They came from beneath the floor and turned the tranquil church into a horrifying slaughterhouse.