Quantum Heights: Book one of the Dead Path Chronicles

by Richard A. Valicek

  “Then, so it shall be,” said the vampire.

  At that moment, Titanis held his mouth over her neck. Sharp fangs protruded from within his mouth. The moon began to turn red, and a wolf who sat near them began to howl. Clouds moved rapidly. Within the clouds, Felicia - the Golden Fleece’s face appeared. “No, Melina,” she said. As the vampire’s fangs drew closer, Clarisse’s heart began to beat faster. The wolf continued to howl. As the vampire held her in his arms, his eyes turned ruby red, and he bit into her neck. Clarisse felt pain and began to shake. She breathed heavily. Her blood was now polluted with the vampire’s. She held him tight. Bats flew the caves as they sensed a presence. From within the tunnel, the Elysian knights appeared.

  Caprius immediately noticed Melina. “Nooo!” Caprius yelled out as he watched the vampire bite into her neck. At that moment, Titanis drew his head away from Clarisse and, staring at the knights, growled—his eyes a menacing ruby red. His teeth were stained with blood. The knights rushed in, and the vampire set Clarisse, who had fallen in a state of sleep, into her coffin. The vampire approached the knights. With his powers, he drew a force, which threw the knights in the air. They tumbled to the ground. The snakes began to slither and enter Clarisse’s coffin. Clarisse lay sleeping with snakes slithering across her body. The knights again attacked. Caprius rose to his feet. Holding his claymore in hand, he channeled his powers. He drew a large flame from his sword at the vampire. The vampire held out his hand and created a force field. The fire went in all directions. When the fire was extinguished, the vampire looked at Clarisse in the coffin. He gestured with his hand, and the lid closed the casket. With his mind, the vampire jammed the casket handle, twisting it and trapping the helpless Melina inside. Calista drew her bow and arrow, sending an arrow near the vampire’s head. The vampire caught the arrow in hand, growled, and threw it to the ground.

  The vampire came closer to the knights; with his power, he lifted one knight off the ground and forced him back. The knight flew across, landing on and through a tree stump. Its pointed end cut through the knight’s body, sticking out from his chest. The knight spilled blood from his mouth and widened his eyes. He slumped over dead. As Dragus and Andromin rushed to the creature, the vampire again drew a force pushing the knights back. Dragus and Andromin fell into the stream with a splash. Calista speared another arrow across the air. The vampire noticed it and moved his head to the side. Dragus lunged swinging his sword, and the vampire swung his arm hitting Dragus in the face. Dragus flew back. At the same time, as the vampire wasn’t looking, Calista threw her sword into the air. The sword spun around. The creature saw it in time and jumped into the air. The sword struck a nearby tree with the handle embedded into an open stump. Calista immediately went to her bow and arrow and let out an arrow. The arrow pierced the vampire through his left collar bone. The vampire grimaced. He dislodged the arrow. At that moment, Caprius lunged at him with super speed. The force sent the vampire against a tree. The creature fell dazed. Caprius wasted no time, and with great speed, he came at him swinging his sword. The sword severed the vampire’s left hand. The vampire, now injured and angry, picked up Caprius by his chest and pushed him high up. Caprius somersaulted and landed on his knees. The vampire cringed and laughed. Andromin drew a powerful flame, and now the vampire turned into a hundred bats and flew away.

  The snakes continued to slither across Melina’s body. Her face white as snow and eyes closed. The vampire bats merged into human vampire form near Dragus. The vampire, who’s eyes were fierce, held Dragus by his wrists with great strength. Caprius lunged at them both, kicking the vampire back toward a tree. The vampire was on his knees, and both Dragus and Andromin drew great balls of fire, which engulfed the creature. Dragus ran to Melina looking at her in the casket. Melina opened her eyes and snarled. Fangs in her mouth. The creature used his powers to extinguish the flames. He was burned and revealed his fangs. The vampire’s eyes glowed a ruby red; he snarled. Caprius ran toward the vampire, striking with his claymore but missed. At that moment, Calista drew another arrow, which sped through the air, and as the vampire’s eyes widened, before he could do anything, the arrow pierced him through the forehead. His eyes opened wide.

  Caprius came at him swinging himself around and thrust his foot into his abdomen. As the vampire flew back into the tree, he struck Calista’s sword embedded in the open stump. The vampire was pierced through his heart. The knights stood looking at the dead vampire. Caprius immediately went to Melina. Again, her eyes were closed. Her face turned a normal color, not pale and white. Caprius tried to open the casket, but it was jammed. He slammed his sword handle against the end of the glass near the handle. He could not break it. He tried again and again.

  “Wait, Caprius,” said Dragus. “Step aside.” The snakes continued to slither upon Melina’s body. Dragus channeled his powers to his sword. He drew a great heat of light upon the door handle. The handle melted. Caprius swung his sword up from the bottom hitting the edge of the coffin lid. The casket blew open. Caprius and Dragus began taking the snakes in hand and tossing them out of the coffin. “She has better color in her face now,” said Dragus. Dragus opened Melina’s mouth, moving her lips. “The fangs have retracted. The spell has been broken.”

  “With the vampires death, the Monisar was reversed,” said Calista, who stood by their side.

  “Will she be all right?” asked a soldier.

  Caprius took her hand. “She has a pulse.” He put his hand upon her chest. “I can feel her heart beating.”

  “That would mean that the vampire baptized her only once,” said Calista.

  “That means we got to her right on time. She will be all right in given time,” said Dragus. They all glanced back looking at the dead vampire pinned to the tree; his head slouched down.

  “Let’s take her home now,” said Caprius. They came out of the castle and stood at the entrance.

  “This bridge must be destroyed,” said Dragus. Dragus took out a small flat circular explosive device from his side pocket. He set the detonation and put the device onto the bridge. “Let’s go! It’s going to blow!” Caprius held Melina’s body in front of his as they both sat on the horse. The small army trotted across the bridge away from Castle Plaphorius. They approached the land and began to ride off the bridge. Caprius halted his horse. “Wait, I want to see this,” he said. Seconds later, the bridge exploded. The bridge rumbled and cracked. A great light dispersed, and the bridge vanished. The gateway to another land had been shut. In the distance, there was no castle Plaphorius.

  “Well, we had best be off to Elysium,” said Caprius. The army was full of gratitude for being able to escape the evil that was Titanis Clore and happy to live another day.

  ***

  When the knights arrived back in Elysium, Caprius set Melina’s body down on the bed. He lay her head gently on the pillow. He watched her sleep. He sat on the bed by her side, and after being with her for nearly four hours, he got to his feet. Melina was still fast asleep. Caprius looked at her one last time, then left the bedroom.

  Chapter 3

  Cold-Hearted and Driven

  Confidus recalled something he had read in the sacred Book of Bivion, a prophecy written by Felicia - the Golden Fleece, that he suddenly needed to see. Confidus decided he would visit the basilica in Meadow-lie to check the Book of Bivion at once.

  He went into the library, where the mahogany walls flickered in the candlelight. The Book of Bivion rested on its stand, as with its more than one thousand pages, it was too large to hold. All of Felicia’s writings from before her passing were contained in the book: scriptures, diagrams of ancient Elysium, and much more. He flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. He centered his glasses on his thin nose and began to read. “Here lie the shocking words as written over a thousand years ago.” He continued until he came to a passage Felicia had written: “It is through my vision I glimpsed the future. Before the chosen one, whom they will call Lantrinon, is born, the kin
g of Elysium shall send forth his son, whose name will begin with the initial C, on two journeys, which shall involve the slaying of the Dark Lord’s vampire minions. This knight shall be joined by an outsider who will embrace the light of Petoshine and too become a knight master. This knight shall be female, and her name will also begin with the letter C. After some months, the two will join to form a lasting bond in the light of Petoshine. During their journey, they will be joined by yet a third companion, another female, whose first name again shall bear the first initial of C. The three will join forces to form a larger, stronger bond. The three knights, known as the ‘Three C’s,’ shall ultimately help destroy the Dark Lord and his vampire minions. This is my vision, for I am Felicia - the Golden Fleece.”

  Confidus closed the book and considered her words. “Three C’s… my son Caprius and Calista…,” he murmured. He sat back in his chair and touched his beard absently. “But, a second female? I cannot imagine who that would be.” He sat up. “I know what I must do,” he said, this time aloud, his voice ringing out into the large room. Confidus closed the golden Book of Bivion. He strode out of the basilica.

  ***

  Two days had passed. Jethro was riddled with hoodlums, bums, and grifters. The few who tried to live an honest life were burned out, and the only way anyone got any money was to cheat or steal. The downtown area was thick with the worst kind of action; looting and burglary were commonplace, but recently, things had heated up, and the murder rate was creeping up to an all-time high. In the last years, the crime had gotten so bad, people didn’t like to leave their homes, knowing a simple walk down the street could mean a mugging, a beating, or worse. The western part of Alamptria was the opposite: safe, clean, congenial; its lawmakers ensured the police were in fine form and out in force, keeping their streets secure. But, in the east, cowards were beaten alive, and only those who could defend themselves kept their heads above water. This nasty social climate turned most toward taking up some kind of self-defense: martial arts, krav magna, capoeira. So long as a person could thrust a kick into an attacker’s windpipe or carve him out at the knees, he could go about his business in town. Child or grandmother, it didn’t matter; it was all about survival.

  Downtown in Jethro, the honest work opportunities were scarce, so those who could fled to the north of the city where the more upright folks lived; those who couldn’t because they didn’t have the means stayed, but eventually, like the many who came before them, these desperate people inevitably turned to darker pursuits, stripping or gambling or worse, to stay afloat. Those who lived in northern Jethro were, by and large, able to avoid most of this seedy life; there, the families and the elderly lived in well-cared-for homes with manicured lawns and ran decent businesses. But, the action, the mystery, the opportunity to make a quick buck, these were downtown. Anyone who ventured to that part of the city knew he had to get his fists ready.

  Cynthia Davenport was a strikingly beautiful woman in her late twenties. Her almond eyes were fringed by a wave of waist-length chestnut hair, perfectly manicured nails topped her long fingers, and toned muscles made up her slender shape. Her job as an agent working undercover for a small organization paid her decently enough so she could maintain a cheerful two bedroom apartment in the northern part of the city. While she believed it was important to keep herself up physically, she budgeted her finances for all her other expenses to be able to give her adopted sixteen-year-old son, Henry, anything he needed. He meant the world to her, and she truly would do anything for him. She ardently wished she could have a better life in a city like Elysium, where good fortune and opportunities were plentiful, but her job was all consuming and prevented her from doing much else, including spending the time she wished she could with her son. They had only been together for four years, when she rescued him from living on the streets, bone thin and shivering. She took him in, taught him how to defend himself, and loved him like he was her own. When she was out in the field, Henry was on his own, but he was clever and knew how to take care of himself. He learned to cook and keep the house tidy.

  The only concern Cynthia had, which she would never talk to Henry about, was that one day he might sense the dangerous excitement in downtown Jethro and try to make his way there. He knew how to fight, so if he got into trouble, he could at least defend himself, but she didn’t want him to enter into that world, one she knew very well herself. As a child, she’d seen her mother die at the hands of a mugger, who shot her through the neck, killing her instantly. Sensing his daughter’s deep psychological trauma, her father, a war veteran, embarked on a rigorous training plan that gave Cynthia all the combat and training she needed to fend off any attacker. And, she did from that point onward, getting herself into trouble just to beat her way out of it. She was a fierce fighter in both hand and sword combat and won all of her battles. But, after killing some young thugs just for the sport of it, she realized she had deeper emotional scarring than she’d been willing to admit and went to a psychiatrist. She confessed to hearing voices and having visions that taunted her into fighting. When she met Henry, she felt complete in a way she hadn’t since her mother’s death. In him, she found she could love and care for someone fully. She also began teaching other young people martial arts so they could productively avoid criminals, not beat them to a pulp. Privately, she found agency in helping out the community; if she saw any scourge trying to steal or bother anyone, she stepped in to help. It became second nature to be on guard.

  ***

  On this bright and sunny day, she donned a skin-tight outfit with a sword tucked into each of her thigh-high boots to continue her hunt for a man named Colburn who had been eluding the authorities and gone into hiding. He was a dangerous villain, secretly planning a mass production of a serum used to genetically enhance animals, turning them into super intelligent and dangerous predators. Her previous attempts to stop Colburn had failed, and she vowed to continue to search for him until he was either captured or exterminated. She’d gotten a lead, and though all she wanted was to stay home and read with Henry, she left, determined to snare this monster.

  After a long day and night yielding nothing, early on Monday morning, she crept back in exhausted. She started the kettle before going to check on Henry in his bedroom. She opened the door gently, then stopped. His bed was made and his pillow was fluffed. Henry always pulled his covers up in the morning but never so neatly and never with his pillow so centered and nicely propped up. She knew he hadn’t slept at home during the night. Her heart sank as she suspected it had to do with her mission. Cynthia had not only taught him combat fighting, but she had also mistakenly gotten him involved in her dangerous world. She cursed herself for ever having confided in him about her involvement in the dark world. Since taking in Henry, she’d managed to keep him safe, away from the danger of downtown Jethro, but now, because of who she was and what she did, she’d inadvertently gotten him involved in an exponentially more dangerous and sinister world.

  Cynthia numbly shuffled back to the kitchen and plunked down onto a chair. She began to weep, her voice mingling with the whistling tea kettle. She wiped her face on her sleeve and prepared a cup of Earl Grey. As she dunked the tea bag, she thought about Henry and what a mistake she’d made. She hoped that he had gone for a run or had slept over with a friend. Even a girl would’ve been preferable.

  She sipped her tea, but it was so hot, she scalded her lip and jostled the cup, spilling tea onto her lap and the table. “Shit!” She brushed away the hot liquid from her pants and stood to get the dishcloth. As she wiped up the mess, she sat back down, filled with sorrow. She sat, immobile, for over an hour until finally she stood and put her tea, now ice cold, in the sink. She went to the bathroom, filled the tub, and took off her clothes; she sank into the steaming water. She laid there a long time before dressing in large soft pants and a woolen sweater, taking to the sofa with her head on a pillow and arms over her head to wait for her son.

  The room was silent. The wind picked up, and the
snow slowly patterned down, but inside was still. Cynthia squeezed a small rubber ball over and over. As the minutes passed, with no sound of footsteps approaching the door, she became more frustrated. She sat up and whipped the ball across the room.

  Cynthia clasped her hands in prayer and glanced at the gilt crucifix on her wall. She clapped her hands to her knees and stood, unable to bear it any longer. She was going to go look for him. She dressed again in black, sheathing the swords at her thighs, and headed downtown.

  Cynthia headed straight to the shadiest part of Jethro and walked through, aware that all eyes were on her. A cluster of greasy looking men at the corner paused in their raucous banter as she approached. She recognized them from playing the horses. They didn’t play fair, either. A tall one with stringy hair and dungarees stepped away from his mates and glowered at her. “You’re the one,” he said. “I recognize you. You took me for my money.”

  Cynthia raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Of course, I did. It was a bet, and I won,” she said.

  “Ya, well, I got rules. And, I say you cheated,” he said.

  “Hmm,” she pretended to size him up. “It was fair. Pity for you that you’re a sore loser.”

  “There was nothing fair about it, and a real lady would challenge me to a rematch,” he said, his lips twisting into a sly grin.

  “What’s the matter, Neddy, your mommy put you out in the cold for losing her nest egg in the race?” asked Cynthia feigning sympathy. She fingered his dirty lapel and matched his smile, which he dropped in sudden seriousness.

  “Listen, give me a chance to win my money back, and I’ll lay off for good,” he said.

  “And, if you lose, then what?” she asked.

  “I’ll never bother you again. All I want is a chance.” Ned held out his hand. “What do you say, Cynthia?”

  “All right, but under one condition. Tell me where Henry is.”