Moonlight War- Act II (The Realmers Book 3)

by William Collins

  Evan cursed under his breath as they walked. “We’ll just have to try and navigate our way up the temple then. I think I fell several floors.”

  “Great job on that by the way, amateur,” said Sintian.

  Evan ignored the jibe. “What if we can’t take these cultists?”

  “Seriously?” Sintian snorted. “They aren’t Venators. Most of them are probably normal humans. They’re animals compared to us.”

  “Are you joking?” Evan replied. “The only difference is that we have magic and others don’t, we’re all human.” As the words left his mouth, the dread returned, reminding him, well, you’re not a real human either way, are you?

  Sintian chuckled. “We Venators are vital to keeping all the worlds from falling into ruin. The fact I wield sorcery is just one of many ways I’m superior to the average human. That’s not opinion, it’s fact. If you were from a proper Venator family, you’d already know that.”

  “And I suppose the fact your last name has an ancient bloodline also makes you superior to Venators from newer families or ones with no Venator relatives?” he asked sarcastically.

  “True, that is what most Venators from ancient families believe. Bane for sure. Even your friends, Elijah and Joelle likely think the same. Many true-Venators in the Fortress think of themselves as nobles. The vanity. My superiority comes from being more powerful than the rest. The Strays have always prized themselves on being more skilled than others. Hard work pays off, Evan.”

  Evan frowned, surprised at him, although he couldn’t deny Sintian was always training his hardest to become the best.

  “True-Venators?”

  Sintian smiled sardonically. “It’s a term the original Venators used to describe themselves, ever since outside Realmers came to Veneseron.”

  Evan recalled Gettelung explaining in class how the ancient families were the first to train at the Fortress, until Vanderain recruited others from Earth who also possessed sorcery.

  “Esherr, the orcish for first, is the preferred term these days,” Sintian continued. “True-Venator was outlawed because of all the conflict it caused within the Venator ranks, as if only the old families counted, and the Rezerks were inferior.”

  Evan couldn’t forget that it was Cera who first told him about the names Esherr and Rezerk. It had been on the way to the forest, where they’d first kissed, and where Cera knew Kurrlan’s demons would be waiting to capture him.

  “Good. True-Venator sounds pretty arrogant,” he said.

  “Insecurities, probably.” Sintian shrugged. “The smallest of differences cause division.”

  “Yeah,” Evan replied, “like you thinking humans without magic are like animals.”

  “It’s a sentiment shared by many Realmers,” said Sintian. “Sorcery puts us on another level, just like intelligence puts a normal human on a level above a lion or an ape.”

  “Well, I don’t think we’re above others who don’t wield magic,” said Evan.

  “You would if you’d been raised in a Venator family. Rezerks who lived most of thier lives on Earth, like you, find it hardest to accept.”

  Evan just shook his head, knowing they’d never agree on this. He decided to change the subject. “By the way, you should probably use the Mutemove spell to silence your footsteps.”

  Sintian cocked an eyebrow. “Evan Umbra, with a good idea? My skills must be rubbing off on you.”

  As Sintian went to enact Mutemove, Evan heard a strange hissing erupt and echo off the walls. Both of them turned to look down the corridor, but only a dark and empty passage stretched out before them.

  “What is that noise, another trap?” Sintian looked up at the ceiling, as if expecting something to drop on them.

  Evan quickly looked at the ground, just to make sure the tiles weren’t moving again to make him fall into another chamber again.

  “It’s coming closer,” he said, gripping Ruaden tight as he held the blade before him.

  Sintian hesitated, holding his own sword just as tightly. Evan tried to peer through the gloom but there wasn’t a shadow out of place.

  “Screw it,” said Sintian, casting Darkbreaker. “I don’t care if the Cultists’ see.” The neon fireball in his hands offered up more light, but only halfway down the corridor. The hissing became louder, as if a viper was slithering their way, but even with Sintian’s fire spell, there was nothing there.

  “Maybe-” Evan cut off as he felt a sudden searing heat, slowly getting closer and more blistering.

  “What in Rueda’s name?” Sintian whispered, evidently feeling the heat too.

  Evan knew then that there was no cultist’s approaching; it was no earthly thing at all.

  Finally, a shape formed at the end of the dark passageway. It was a very tall man dressed in a blood-red cloak and hood. Evan couldn’t see the face inside the hood, only the glint of a golden beak. Steam billowed out of the shape by its shoulder and as the thing came closer Evan realised it was no man, but a monster whose tentacles dragged across the ground.

  He felt fear of which he hadn’t experienced since coming face to face with Kurrlan, this creature was no mere demon.

  “I…we…need to run,” he managed to say to Sintian. He desperately wanted to take his own advice, but found himself rooted to the spot, as if chains had sprung up around his ankles.

  Sintian stared with his mouth agape. “That’s…an Asharon.”

  Evan was about to ask what that was when the monster stopped suddenly. His eyes were transfixed as the Asharon raised its hand, pulling forth a weapon. A sound ripped through the air, something similar to that of a chainsaw, as the Asharon activated the item in its hand.

  Evan realised it had been a bronze hilt and at the horrific whining sound the sword’s hilt had appeared; only it was a static yellow laser. The laser’s light bounced off the walls and threw the Asharon’s face into sharper detail. Evan glimpsed two black goggle lenses instead of eyes and only an upper lip. The Asharon had no tongue, chin or lower jaw at all.

  “Come willingly, child. Or come in pieces.” The Asharon’s voice scraped out.

  Evan’s his blood had turned to ice, yet his skin was burning up, he felt a hot fear and icy horror all at once.

  “Glarq off,” Sintian cried, leaping forward to attack the abomination.

  The Asharon’s laser sword flicked out to block Sintian’s strike, before lashing out with a strike of its own, forcing Sintian back.

  Evan broke out of his terror as the battle began and ran forward to help Sintian.

  He swung true, aiming to hack off the monsters head, but the laser sword was there to stop him. As their weapons smashed together, the Asharon reached out and grazed Evan’s arm. He caught a glimpse of copper as mechanical fingers brushed against his armour. He flinched back, breaking the stalemate between their swords. As he stepped forward again, Evan summoned an intense amount of fire magic to hurl at the Asharon’s face. His hand merely gestured, however, conjuring nothing.

  He saw Sintian do the same, then look at his hand in shock.

  The Asharon gurgled out laughter.

  Evan realised then that the Asharon’s touch must’ve nullified his sorcery, much like Uqari chains would.

  The revelation curiously filled him with fury, rather than more fear, and Evan doubled his attack, slashing reputedly at the monster. The Asharon parried every one of his blows, however, simultaneously countering Sintian’s strikes too, wielding a sword better than both of them.

  Suddenly, one of the Asharon’s tentacles trailing behind its body flicked out and wrapped around Sintian’s throat. Before Evan could attempt to help him, a second tentacle snagged his calf and wrenched him forward as still more tentacles writhed around him.

  He fell, hard, his back slamming against the stone. He cried out incoherently, still swiping Ruaden in an effort to slice into the flailing tentacles around him, but they all danced away before he hit. Then the Asharon’s sword smashed into his own, knocking Ruaden out of Evan’s hand and
causing it to skitter away across the floor.

  Without sorcery and now his sword, he was completely at the Asharon’s mercy. The monster held his laser sword high, the point aimed for Evan’s chest.

  Chapter 38- Helping Hands

  Brooke stood, temporarily paralysed by shock.

  Seconds before the wolves pounced on her and Arantay, the ceiling had caved in and three Venators had descended into their midst.

  “Lok?” The words poured out of her mouth. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Lok brushed his ash-blond hair out of his eyes casually as he looked about the room, taking in the many lycans with a cocky grin.

  “Every damsel in distress needs their prince,” his eyes twinkled mischievously as he hefted his silver imbued blade.

  Tyrell and Lyella descended through the ceiling beside Lok, their blades drawn.

  “Kill them all!” Vore bellowed.

  Complete chaos ensued.

  Lok and the other Arch-Realmers met the werewolf charge head on. Blasts of magic flew everywhere, lighting up the vast cellar like a thousand fireworks. An ear-splitting cacophony raged as the Venator’s shouted and the Moonlight races roared.

  Brooke had never been more frightened in her life as the huge beasts hurled their monstrous bodies across the room, their red tongues lolling and giant yellow teeth gleaming. She hastily summoned a shield of air around herself, as she and Tay joined the melee. The shield formed just in time to stop a weretiger ripping her stomach open. The beast’s claws ricocheted off her air bubble, before Brooke blasted him away with a bolt of purple lightning.

  Lok danced about the room, laughing uncontrollably and flinging magic left and right. He temporarily blinded one wolf when it snatched at him, and set another’s leg on fire when it took a swipe at his head.

  Blood sprayed through the air as Tyrell’s sword cut through a lycan’s massive arm. The wolf roared, but was cut off as Tyrell’s energy spell blasted him across the room. Tyrell carved a path toward her and Arantay, shouting desperately. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Arantay moved with superhuman speed, knocking out the two wereleopards blocking the stairs.

  “Take Brooke and go,” Tay said. “I’ll cover your retreat and then follow.”

  “We can’t leave the others behind,” said Tyrell.

  At that moment, Lok jumped into the centre of the room, twirling his sword in his hands. “C’mere dogs,” he taunted the pack with a fearless chuckle.

  “Lok, c’mon!” Lyella shouted even as she flung a lycan across the room with air element and joined the rest of them by the stairs.

  Vore; easily the biggest and strongest wolf in the room, shoved one of his pack mates aside ruthlessly and charged straight for Lok.

  “Look out,” Arantay cried.

  Still laughing, Lok leaped to the side as Vore pounced. He then slashed fast, hacking off the Hellwolf’s hand.

  “Gotcha,” Lok cheered.

  Vore merely stood still, however. He raised the arm Lok had wounded, now just a stump. The blood pouring out of his stump stopped suddenly, as a new hand grew in it its place. Vore turned back to Lok, his giant wolf’s head wearing its own kind of grin.

  Brooke was certain normal werewolves couldn’t grow back their limbs. They hadn’t learned much about Hellwolves in training yet. She had no idea how truly powerful they were.

  Lok’s humour died once Vore’s hand re-appeared, but then Vore was charging at him again. This time Lok fled, sprinting toward Brooke and the others.

  Arantay led the way up the stairs. Brooke made it through the cellar’s trapdoor behind Tyrell, hurtling down the narrow corridor and back into the main club.

  All noise from the pack was instantly drowned out by the pounding music as she emerged in the club’s main floor. She could only see Tyrell now as they made for the exit. The thumping music may have drowned out the commotion in the cellar, but she knew if the fight broke out here, innocents would be slaughtered.

  The nightclub’s lights were chaotic, flitting in and out so the room flashed. With each flash she expected to see yellow eyes leering back at her.

  Blue, green, and red lights burned her eyelids as they waded through the press of sweaty flesh. Brooke jumped when someone grabbed her arm, until she saw it was Arantay.

  The club-goers were already freaking out. Groups stood either side of a crater in the middle of the dance floor, shouting to each other and asking how it had happened.

  “What do we do?” Brooke shouted.

  Vore’s pack poured onto the dance floor, searching for them. They’d changed back into their human skins, but didn’t look any less terrifying.

  “Over there.” Tyrell pointed toward the far wall.

  As they started in that direction, Brooke felt a sharp tug that almost ripped her hair out of the roots. A lycan had seized her from behind. Before she could fight back, his thick arm wrapped around her neck. Arantay shot forward, his fist smashing into her captor’s chin.

  The werewolf fell back into several dancers, who shouted in confusion. He was soon replaced by another lycan who barrelled into Tyrell from the side. He and Tyrell crashed to the floor in a heap. People scattered away as the wolf pinned Tyrell down with one hand and rained down blows with the other.

  Lok and Lyella arrived abruptly, both of them kicking the lycan in either side of his head.

  Several people screamed as Lok helped Tyrell to his feet and they continued their way to the far wall.

  “Too many civilians are looking at us.” Lyella warned

  “I’ll provide a distraction,” said Lok, leaping into the crowd as if he was at a rock concert performing a stage dive. The crowd’s attention was diverted as Lok surfed on top of them.

  “Now.” Tyrell grabbed Brooke’s hand. At his touch, she was filled with a bizarre sensation and her body melted through the wall when Tyrell pulled her though. Lyella appeared moments later, hauling Arantay through.

  The four of them tore down the dark streets. Just before the club left Brooke’s sight, Lok passed through the walls, running after them at breakneck pace, stopping only to smack the doorman in the face when he attempted to tackle him.

  “Run!” Lok shouted, exhilarated. “They’re piling through the doors after us.”

  Brooke’s hair whipped out behind her crazily as she tried to keep up with the others. No matter how much fitness training Venators went through, Brooke didn’t think any of them could outrun werewolves; save Arantay.

  “Go to the vampires lair. The pack wouldn’t dare follow us there,” Arantay said.

  “Brilliant, vampires adore me,” Lok called back.

  The only sound was all of their laboured breathing as they ran, until the pack’s howling filled the night.

  Her heart hammered so fast she worried it might explode. Being chased by the wolves was somehow scarier than fighting them. She was convinced that if she looked over her shoulder, yellow eyes would be glowing in the darkn behind them.

  “Here,” Tyrell said, casting a spell on all of them. Brooke recognised the spell as Aromanti, which hid their scent, meaning the wolves wouldn’t be able to track them.

  She was grateful for the hours of physical training as the minutes trickled by. Without them, she would’ve collapsed from exhaustion. Finally, the livid howls started to fade behind them.

  “C’mon, let’s turn back for round two,” said Lok jubilantly.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Arantay replied.

  “They’ve gone,” said Tyrell, slowing to a jog.

  Brooke strained her ears for the sound of padded feet and heavy breath.

  Arantay’s scarlet eyes focused on the darkness, his senses so much better than theirs.

  “Tyrell’s right,” he muttered at last.

  Brooke slumped against a nearby wall in relief, gasping for breath.

  Lyella tossed back her fine mane of silver-blonde hair. “Ughh, what disgusting beasts they are.” She wrinkled her perfect nose.

&
nbsp; “I didn’t think they’d give up so easily.” Lok chuckled again.

  “They haven’t,” Arantay said. “They’ve probably gathered to decide their next move. We must inform Hallia’s coven of our failure.”

  “You think we have a war on our hands?” Lok’s face brightened.

  Arantay nodded solemnly. “Wipe that smile off your face. This isn’t a good thing.”

  “What- what are you guys doing here anyway,” Brooke said, in-between sucking lungfuls of air. “How did you know we-”

  “Gettelung sent us,” Lyella interrupted. “The mission monitors told him they believed you two had lost or broken your Holophones, as they hadn’t heard from you recently. I guess one little werewolf was too much for you, Brooke.” Lyella smirked.

  “We’re dealing with more than one little wolf,” Arantay said. “You just saw for yourself. How did you know we were with the pack?”

  “The Monitors used the tracker chips in our armour,” said Tyrell. “We took a portal right outside the club. It was Lok’s idea to smash a hole through the dance floor.”

  “It worked, didn’t it?” Lok shrugged. “Anyway, we didn’t know there was a trap door. If I’d waited any longer, you two would’ve been dog food.”

  “So when are you going back?” Arantay asked.

  “Not until you do, my friend. We’re here to stay.” Lok grinned.

  “After you lost contact with the monitors, us three were all Veneseron could spare right now,” said Tyrell. “Usually the Venators stationed nearby would aid you, but there’s only two Realmer Outposts in Britain, and both Outposts are currently busy with a demon outbreak in Wales and a Water-Wraith epidemic up in Scotland.”

  Brooke had heard about Realmer Outposts before, they were dwellings where a large group of Realmers who’d completed training were stationed full-time, to protect the whole country, or their district if in larger countries. She remembered Gettelung saying America had seven Outposts spread across its states.

  “I’ll have to give the Masters a progress report,” said Tyrell. “And with how things have developed we’ll have to stay. Two Venators are simply not enough, not now London’s on the brink of a Moonlight War. ”