Vorans and Vampires (Book 1): Voran the Night Guardian

by Donald Wigboldy

  The sounds of magical attacks and screams of men and beast both lashed the dull breathing of the snow laden wind. The fighting was vicious, as the beasts proved very difficult to kill for both sword and magic. They were highly resistant to flame and ice apparently as few of the monsters succumbed to the two men. The lightning of the third mage demanded respect from the creatures, however, as two of their numbers attested from holes bore through their chests.

  The lightning also drew more of the creatures to her end of the carriage.

  “Master, the lightning has killed a pair already.”

  “The ice has slowed them down,” Wendle called from the other side.

  “Fire is charring fur, but no deaths,” he declared.

  A horse of the guardsman to Deiclonus’ left ran for the ice covered trees in an effort to escape. Its rider already slain, the horse soon followed as a pair of beasts removed the distraction probably figuring to feast after the rest of their impending deaths. Another guard was down already on Wendle’s side as well though the elder wizard did not know that. Hardly any of the beasts had fallen and already their guards were reduced by a quarter.

  The wizard chanted a new spell. Lightning flew in much the way the girl’s had though it was much more directed. The bolt bore through a pair of werebeasts that were not expecting such an attack. The other two mages reacted with their own magics from their positions. A new wave of beasts did their best to dodge streams of lightning and wove their way closer to attack the men once more.

  Ashleen screamed and a thunderous bolt of lightning reacted from her skin as a werebeast broke through to latch onto her right arm. She was a wilder type of wizard. As such, the girl had learned to harness magic in her own way before being found by the guild. Her use of lightning could often be called up without a word. The demonstration of her unique skills was evidenced by the smoking corpse of the werebeast at her feet.

  Blood showed on the arm partially bared by the werebeast’s tearing bite, but the girl still lived. Unfortunately, the guard behind her no longer did as another beast tore out his neck in the confusion.

  Deiclonus wasn’t sure what happened next. The first werebeast to have its chest explode towards the carriage was nearest Ashleen. His attention was focused on those nearest him and he missed the strangeness as all of their efforts were designed to push the enemy back. Over the howls and growling, his ears heard a new battle cry, however. Such a sound couldn’t have sounded better to his ears if angels themselves sang out.

  “Southwall! Southwall!” the cry began to gather the werebeasts’ attention. That call and the sight of several more of their brethren from the front and right side of the carriage dying explosively quickly revealed a new enemy joining the fray.

  Unsure of what was happening to their brothers, the werebeasts stalled in their attacks. The wizards struck back at a few of their number in the distraction adding to their confusion.

  Thundering hooves and men with glowing blue spears and shields rushed into the fray. The monsters now found their flanks being overwhelmed by this new force. The ones towards the back and left were slower to respond to the new enemy, but as the horsemen continued their slaughter, even they began to withdraw from the new attackers.

  Howling in despair and frustration, the dark horde turned tail and quickly disappeared back into the forest. The riders didn’t bother to pursue. They knew the beasts’ abilities in the brush. Horses just couldn’t catch them. A few more minutes fight and all that remained on the road were men and the corpses of both sides strewn around the carriage and road.

  Deiclonus felt an overwhelming rush of exhaustion as he leaned onto his staff for support and took in his surroundings. More walking stick than magic staff, the elder wizard moved to check Ashleen who had slumped onto one of the dead horses appearing drained, in pain, and checking her shoulder. Wendle joined him with a limp and showing numerous nicks on his cloak and robes that attested to close quarters fighting as well.

  As the elder wizard checked on the girl, who wanly smiled up at his attention, the new horsemen rode to surround the wounded vehicle. One man clad in mostly brown rode to face them and saluted. “Falcon Trillon, at your disposal, sir. I’m afraid that we weren’t able to save you all, but we had to chase this pack from quite away to get here.”

  The wizard looked up at a young man that looked to be in his very early twenties at most. Light brown hair, barely mussed, topped an uncovered head. Deiclonus also noted an aura about the man. Around the aura, the snow seemed to bend and flee from him as if sliding over a bubble. It was an odd aura for a mere falcon of Southwall to have. Such mages were not generally known to be strong in magic. Also like a wilder they differed from true wizards, though they did have their uses as more than a dozen werebeasts attested. “Greetings, Falcon Trillon, I am Deiclonus, wizard of the first order. Your timely rescue is still much appreciated, young man. Thankfully, our Southwall allies apparently still guard the wall during the winter.”

  The falcon nodded. “Never enjoyable, but it has been necessary with the Dark One’s beasts roaming more freely the past few years,” he agreed. “You have wounded?”

  The wizard glanced around. The guardsmen numbered three standing. Looking to their faces, the men shook their heads sadly. Three then, the rest all slain. He knew they were lucky that any of them lived. Had the Southwallers not come along when they did, they would all most likely be dead. “My apprentices have their share of cuts and bites but they should survive until a healer can see to them.

  The falcon dismounted. Checking Ashleen’s arm for himself, he merely said one word, “Heal.”

  As the wizard watched, to his amazement the wound swiftly seemed to heal over and barely a scar remained where the savage bite had torn her fleshy upper arm. The man went to his pack and took a partial loaf of bread and began to chew on it as he went to check the others.

  “You battle mages can heal?” the elder wizard remarked in surprise. “I’ve not seen many full wizards who could heal as well.”

  Glancing at Deiclonus, Falcon Trillon replied, “It’s a bit new, and like you wizards, not many of us have the skill.”

  “Impressive,” was the reply.

  “Thank you very much,” Ashleen added as she tested the arm. “If you’re a tailor besides all my needs would be met,” the wilder smiled as she ruefully played with her torn sleeves. The skin was a bit pink from the cold but she could move the appendage as if nothing had happened.

  While the battle mage had distracted them with his magic, the other two passengers had exited. A man with a rounded belly that could be assumed even through the bulk of his robes and cloak was also quite bald. With his floppy hat perched atop his head, the man appeared to be quite full of himself as well. Noting the dead around him nearly unblinkingly, their deaths seemed to bother him little. The second to exit was a young, attractive woman with dark curled hair and dark brown eyes that could probably hide many mysteries in their depths. Unlike the nobleman, the girl paled and tried to look away from all the blood and death.

  The man checked his footing to avoid soiling his fur boots, before noting the falcon. “I assume we have you to thank for our salvation, young man?”

  Nodding, the falcon replied, “Yes, sir, I am Falcon Sebastian Trillon. I am in charge of this squad. We noted this pack on the move and came as quickly as our horses could carry us.

  “I am afraid that some of your men were dead before we could reach you.”

  The man patted the air, waving off the worries, “That is not your fault, lad. They’ll be hard to replace anytime soon though I am afraid. At least once we reach the wall; we should be reasonably safe for the rest of our travel.”

  Sebastian nodded, “This seems to be an odd time of year to attempt to travel though, sir.”

  “One needs to keep the line of communication open as much as possible despite the weather.”

  The round little man seemed to start in recognition of a mistake. “I am afraid that I forgot to introdu
ce myself. I am so used to someone else being around to do so. I am Lord Romonus, of Treatenshire, ambassador of Kardor. This is my lovely daughter, Helena.”

  “Pleased to meet you both.” The falcon glanced to his men who had worked to remove the two fallen horses from their harness. While the remaining four in the team looked agitated, they appeared none the worse for wear despite the battle that had surrounded them and their falls. “I think we have your team put back together as best we can here, my lord. Perhaps we should move on before they find reinforcements and decide to return.”

  Already pale from the death around them, Helena somehow managed to whiten even more at the idea and quickly retreated inside the carriage.

  Glancing around apparently looking for someone, Lord Romonus said to Deiclonus, “Kerrick seems to have been slain as well. Would you have your apprentice drive us to the wall, wizard?”

  The man in question nodded and gestured for Wendle to take his place on the bench. While the younger man didn’t appear overly enthused to sit on the seat and drive through the remaining snowy miles, he moved to comply with his master’s wishes.

  “It’s not too far to the wall from here,” Sebastian stated trying to make the man feel better. The falcon also noted that the wizards of Kardor had not put up barriers against the wind as he had. It was a magic taught to him by a wizard. Surely, a full wizard would know and use the trick in this kind of weather if they could?

  He shrugged and dismissed the thought. It mattered little. Soon the carriage was running once more, but this time nine battle mages accompanied the three remaining guardsmen on their ride to the wall.

  The Mermaid’s Chest

  The four friends jogged down the beach in the direction the boat and two girls had gone. Fighting the urge to run harder and knowing it would be futile if they did, the four hurried along the sand with its broken branches and washed up seaweed forcing them to keep an eye on where they placed their feet.

  “You don’t think she’d actually leave us behind for real?” Taylor gasped as she ran near the back of the group. She had never been overly athletic and preferred theater and music to running track, so she had avoided it since the first year of gym.

  Emily had firmer control of her breath since she swam and jogged quite often. Wanting to be a sports doctor in the future, the girl felt she should be an athlete as much as possible. Shaking her head Emily spoke loud enough for her friends to hear, “No, if I know her, she’ll figure to get just out of sight before turning around to get us, but then again Faith could let us wait for half an hour before doing it. When she pulls pranks, my little sister tends to go for maximum effect.”

  “I’m going to kill them both!” Katie snapped looking somewhere between Emily and Taylor for fitness as they jogged along the beach. “When I get my hands on her…

  “She has our food and water too. It’s not like she could have at least left us something.”

  Phoebe tried to concentrate on where she placed her feet. Thankfully her friends back home had kept her somewhat active and her breathing was still fine. She still wondered why they were running. Faith would have to come back for them, wouldn’t she? There was no way that the girl would leave them stranded on an abandoned island without food or water.

  Even if Faith had a grudge against her sister, Phoebe couldn’t believe that the rest of them would need to be tortured as well, but she had to admit that she barely knew her younger cousin. The past few days the Australian had become close friends to Emily, Katie and Taylor with a lesser degree of time spent with the younger girls. Even so, that hardly meant she or any of the others should be left behind.

  Several minutes later as the girls neared a bend in the island’s shape, they spotted the boat drifting near the middle of the channel and the two girls moving frantically onboard.

  “Oh no,” Emily gasped, “she didn’t?”

  “Didn’t what?” the other girls seemed to answer in a chorus as their eyes went from Emily to the speedboat out on the water.

  Giving a groan and sweep her hands along her cheeks anxiously, the blond leading them answered, “I think she may have broken it!”

  A feeling of dread covered them all as they moved to the edge of the sand where the water rose and fell splashing across their bare feet. The four girls standing side by side watched as Faith broke out the paddles. It wasn’t an efficient endeavor and the waves would work against the boat making it that much slower.

  Emily stripped back to her swim suit. “I’m going to swim out and try to help them before they drift away.”

  Taylor joined her though the second girl wasn’t as strong a swimmer as the trim blond. Both girls pulled their hair back into tails that they tied with flex bands that had been on their wrists like bracelets. With hair out of their way, both girls waded in for several feet before they were up to their waists in the water.

  Plunging her upper body into the water and letting her scooped hands push through like an arrow, Emily quickly slid through the channel cutting through towards the speed boat with long, strong strokes. Taylor followed right behind her though at about half the pace of her more athletic friend.

  Phoebe glanced to Katie, who still stood beside her and hesitantly asked as her attention moved back to the water and the girls swimming towards the crippled boat, “Should we…?”

  The curly blond quickly shook her head. “When they get closer we can wade in and use the anchor’s rope to pull them in. Emily and Taylor can handle it. Besides there are only four paddles so we’d just add weight and get in their way, unless you wanted to try kick paddling behind them to push the boat?”

  Scrunching up her face at the idea, Phoebe quickly shook her head. “No, I like your idea better. When they get closer we can wade out to grab the rope and pull them in then.”

  The plan decided, the two girls waited for the others. Emily made it to the boat first and gave Taylor a hand up before getting onboard. Everyone could tell that the elder sister was angry at Faith, but the blond haired girl said little about the fact that her little sister had done something reckless and stupid. Instead she set Taylor to work with Brook on one side of the boat and joined her sister using another paddle to paddle from the other.

  Sitting a few feet above the water and having to lean over the side of the boat, the four girls struggled for nearly twenty minutes against the tide despite only being a short distance away from the island to start. The currents fought their efforts refusing to let them take shelter by the island. It was as if the boat had become an uncooperative enemy beneath their feet.

  While the girls paddled, Phoebe looked at the part of the island that might end up being their refuge for longer than she could have known when they first arrived that afternoon. Only twenty feet back from the water, the island jutted upward in a forty foot climb to a cliff top. It had a lot of loose stone, the girl thought, though she wasn’t a skilled climber so her guess was hardly an educated one. Vines and other greenery dotted the off white stone and the brown of dirt colored it in places where the cracks were big enough to give purchase.

  The sand near where they stood was worn into an odd groove like a river’s bed nearly ten feet across and five feet deeper than the ridges to either side leading back towards the wall of stone. She guessed that at higher tides the water might enter the trough that extended all the way to the steep wall. The wall of the cliff curled a bit coming closer to them on the near side and obscured the end of the trough from Phoebe’s sight, but instead of dwelling further on the land she returned her attention to the water and the approaching boat.

  “I think we can get the rope now,” Katie stated grabbing the other girl’s attention from her search.

  Emily must have thought the same thing. Abandoning her oar a moment, the girl moved to the anchor and swung it for a decent throw ahead of the boat. With a splash, it sunk quickly and dug into the sand beneath the water unseen. Worries of the tide pulling them back were over as the anchor would be tough to pull free.

&nbs
p; Katie and Phoebe waded up to the taller girl’s chest and the smaller blond dove under to find the rope. It still took a few seconds to find the thick cord in the murky water, but Katie was able to pass off the strong strand. Letting Phoebe, who was taller, pull the length to where she could help pull the craft towards shore, the two then began pulling the boat with the rope. Their feet were set in the soft bed of the channel but the boat began to turn as the girls strained to pull the boat after them.

  Paddling to assist the girls in the water, the six soon had the boat close enough to shore that the anchor was forced into the sand in the sandy groove which had begun to fill with water as the tide began to rise. The moon was rising in the east even as the sun continued to fall into the west. Time was getting to be a scarce thing and when the daylight left them, the girls would have no hope of fixing the engine or rotor until morning.

  Phoebe noticed Emily searching thru the bag she had brought along which held a smaller handbag. Producing her cell phone, the blond flicked it on with an answering chime of music. After only a few moments, Emily’s forehead knotted worriedly. “I can’t get any bars,” she announced in disappointment.

  While the other girls on the boat began searching for their own phones, Katie tripped a set of levers on the housing and forced the motor assembly forward. The shaft with attached rotor lifted out of the water revealing a snarl of seaweed and other plant material. Phoebe waded over taking a look at the mess that had been made of machinery.

  As Katie began to pull the weeds free, the other girls began to add announcements of their cell phones having no signal.

  Emily walked over to the rear of the boat looming over Katie where she worked at the snarl. “How bad is it?”

  “The shaft doesn’t appear bent or broken, but I can’t see everything yet,” the wavy haired blond said glanced up with her blue eyes meeting her friend’s gaze. A slight smile of relief flit across her mouth trying to be encouraging.

  Returning the smile with a grim one of her own, Emily stated, “Well, then it’s up to you, because it doesn’t look like we’ll be phoning for help from here.”