CIRCLE OF SHADOWS Part 1: Shadow Chaser

Breathing heavily as he opens the hidden door and exits into the tower corridor, Venere looks around him quickly. Further down the dim corridor, where Simion’s chamber door stands closed, he notices the flicker of a torch.

The shadows of the guards moving restlessly on either side of the wooden door play across the grey-black walls.

A stifled cough reaches Venere where he stands motionless, resting, trying to gather his strength and catch his ragged breath.

Venere pushes himself away from the wall he is leaning against and begins to walk down the corridor.

Sheee-click!

The small door slides softly closed behind him, hiding the tunnel he had just exited.

The grey wall unlined and smooth and the small door completely hidden to any passer-by’s’ eyes.

Wincing slightly as the sound echoes down the silent corridor, Venere draws his shoulders up and his back straight as he walks imperiously towards the guarded door.

‘Halt!’

The stern command booms deafening through the air as the shrouded Venere comes into the torch lit area.

Both guards drop to their knees, spears rattling on the hard

floor as they drop the weapons next to their legs.

‘Your Grace.’

The guards’ voices tremble meekly in unison from their kneeling positions, arms visibly shaking in fear.

Venere sneers maliciously from behind his shroud and hesitates before speaking, enjoying the sight of the burly guards kneeling, both visibly terrified of him.

‘Rise, guards!’ his command, edged with malice cuts through the air, and both guards jerk before jumping up, reclaiming their dropped weapons to hand as they rise.

Dropping their gazes to the floor they wait unmoving for Venere to issue more orders.

‘I understand there was a visitor here earlier.’

Venere’s tone of voice more a statement than a question asked.

The guards look at one another, eyes meeting quickly before the one opens his mouth to answer.

Venere shakes his head and the guard clamps his mouth shut quickly, fear drawn vividly on his face.

‘I know you complied with my orders, but....’

Both guards glance at Venere’s shrouded face, eyes fluttering questioning.

‘...next time someone ventures here, and mark my words, there will be a next time. You are ordered to make one attempt to make them leave... if they do not... you will kill them on the spot!’

Gasping loudly, the one guard stammers softly,

‘But... but Your Grace, kill a Red Mage?’

Astonishment written over his face the other guard glances from the one guard to Venere, shaking his head sadly at his comrade’s mistake.

Venere turns to face the questioning guard, and appraises him from behind the red shroud, anger lining his face, red eyes flashing madly.

‘You dare question me, Servant?!’

His voice hisses from between clenched teeth, anger held back in a tight coil.

‘No... no, Your Grace.’

The guard drops to his knees and lowers his head to the floor, shoulders shaking uncontrollably in fear.

‘Please, Your Grace... please. Forgive me. I meant no disrespect.’

Venere steps backwards slightly, looking at the other guard standing completely motionless with his eyes trained on the floor. He takes a deep breath, relaxes his shoulders and smacks his lips as if contemplating what to do.

A small smile, hidden behind the shroud, plays across his mouth as he enjoys the sight of absolute terror playing out in front of him.

With a small shake of his head he looks down at the blubbering guard prostrate on the floor, pleading for his life.

Flicking a glance to the other guard, standing unobtrusively to the side, he notices the grimace hidden below the helm.

‘Amazing,’ He thinks to himself, ‘even while he is completely petrified of me he still disapproves of the scene his friend is making. Astonishing!’

With a quick wave of his hand Venere dismisses the whole affair and says loudly.

‘Fine. I forgive you. Now stand up and behave like a soldier, damn you!’

The guard stifles his sobs and jumps quickly to his feet, head hanging low against his chest. Venere steps towards the guards moving between them as he reaches for the door handle.

Pulling his hand back suddenly he steps back, facing the guards once more and whispers, his voice low and dangerous.

‘Now remember the orders I have issued. If I come to know of any time you have not followed it, I will have you removed from duty and take care of you myself.’

Venere’s eyes flick between the two silent guardsmen, waiting for any response to his words, as he pauses momentarily to allow his words to sink in. Gathering a small breath he continues softly.

‘It is your duty as well, to remove any evidence in such a matter that no one knows of what has occurred.’

Venere looks at the guards, long and hard, before spitting the last few words out.

‘Do I Make my self clear?’

Nodding their heads rapidly, both guards haltingly mutter.

‘Yes Your Grace!’

With a disdainful snort, Venere walks between them, reaches for the door handle and without halting pushes it open.

Robes fluttering behind him as he walks forward, he enters the room and slams the door loudly shut behind him, the booming crash echoing down the silent corridor.

Simion’s eyes snap open, throat constricted tightly in fright as the boom echoes through his chambers. Images from a nightmare flash through his mind, dissipating like fog in the morning as his awareness takes a firmer hold. Darkness surrounds him where he lies on the floor and he blinks his eyes rapidly, eyes adjusting slowly to the gloomy surroundings.

Arms trembling, he pushes his cold body from the floor, limbs numb and tight after having fallen asleep on the stone floor.

Shaking his head weakly he sits back on his heels, listening intently for any sounds coming from the adjacent chambers.

Silence.

Scraping his fluttering nerves into a heap, he gets to his feet, turning to the basin standing in the corner.

The clear water is cold against his skin as he splashes his face, rubbing vigorously at the encrusted sleep in his eyes, and vomit on his chin.

‘Disgusting!’

He glances at himself in the mirror and grimaces at himself.

The face staring back at him scares him, eyes wide he leans closer for a better view.

Thin lips, drawn tightly in a mad sneer; pale cheeks sunken and shallow; eyes looking like they could pop out at any moment; clothes, worn and bedraggled, hanging loosely from his bony frame.

Disgust flows through Simion and he dunk his hands back in to the cold water, savouring the chill biting at his fingers.

After another splash of the water on his face he reaches for the towel stacked on a table close by, drying his face with the soft material, rubbing vigorously at his skin to disperse the numbness.

With a loud sigh he drops the towel on the floor and kicks it into a corner by the wall, turning and walking off towards the door.

A faint light flickers in the chamber beyond and Simion halts, cocking his head to the side as he racks his memory.

Realising that he might have left a candle burning in his haste to reach the wash room, he relaxes, moving to the doorway and into the next room.

‘Kgg!’

Simion chokes and jerks to a stop as he sees the red shrouded figure standing in the next room before him.

‘Simion.’

The thin voice floats through the silence and reaches icy fingers into Simion’s chest.

Sinking to his knees, Simion stammers softly, head sinking to the floor.

‘Your grace! I.. it is an honour to receive you.’

Simion winces as his intended sarcasm shines through his humble words, regretting his inability to mask his feelings better.

‘Why that is nice to hear. Simion.’

The venom cloaked in Venere’s words sends a chill down his spine and shaking, he glances up. Venere smirks at him from behind the shroud and turns towards the table, indicating for him to get up.

Simion rises and sees in horror the white book lying open on the table. Rushing forwards quickly he comes to a standstill next to Venere, eyes widening with surprise as he scans the open pages and realises what Venere must be reading.

Venere reaches hesitantly towards the book but stops, hand hovering in the air above the open white pages.

Snapping his hand back angrily he turns towards Simion, madness glinting in his red eyes so brightly Simion can almost see the glow beneath the shroud.

Simion takes a step back and reaches to his throat, his airway feeling choked up and tight, stumbles over the carpet

and falls to the floor.

Breathing with difficulty he glances up at Venere, his watery brown eyes wide and filled with dread.

‘Simion.’ Venere says softly, ‘you will attend to the duties I place on you. Study the book. And report to me.’

Simion nods weakly, lip trembling.

‘You are the only one who can access the knowledge contained in this book, the only one who can find a way to allow me access to its power. Then, and only then will you be freed from this tower.’

Simion swallows.

His windpipe constricts. A feeling as if it is being crushed by invisible hands. Sweat pops out on his forehead and runs coolly down his neck and along his spine.

‘I will be watching and waiting, Simion. Do not let me wait to long, for I shall make your stay here very unpleasant.’

Simion nods his head meekly, tears running down his shallow cheeks, madly gasping for air.

‘I will have its secrets! No one shall stand before me!’

Venere’s voice rises higher, filled with emotion.

‘I will have the power! I alone will rule!’

Venere stops talking, looks down at Simion and turns back to the table, pointing his finger at the book.

‘I will have the secrets of the Necra!’

His voice edged with malice as he spits the last words out, he

walks to Simion, grabs him by the collar and drags him to his feet. The display of immense power cows Simion even further.

Blubbering and whining softly, Simion hangs limply in the air, his feet barely touching the floor as Venere holds him up.

Venere pulls Simion’s face closer to the his shroud-covered face, red eyes glowing brightly as the magic courses through his veins and then he whispers menacingly.

‘Now get to work and get me that power!’

With a mighty shove, he sends Simion sprawling across the floor. Robes flapping in the air he turns around and walks back to the door, pausing momentarily before reaching for the door handle and pulling the door open.

Venere steps into the corridor and pulls the door shut before the guards can glance inside.

Silence descends on the chamber.

Pulling himself up with the aid of the chair, Simion sits down weakly and slams his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking and shuddering as immense sobs rack through his body.

After a few moments of crying and wailing he stifles back the sobs, sniffles loudly and wipes a sleeve across his nose.

Simion sighs loudly, reaches towards the book and opens it at the first page. Blurred letters flow in front of his eyes and he wipes at his eyes with his sleeve. Eyes dried he looks at the page, and slowly begins to read the intricate letters.

Opening the drawer he pulls out a sheet of papers and a pencil,

placing them next to the book and starts to make notes and annotations as he reads, translating difficult words and words with deeper meanings unto the empty pages.

The first rays of dawn shine through the window’s shutters, spears of light stabbing into the gloomy interior.

The large candle burning low, replaced numerous times in the long night.

Reaching with his finger at the flame, Simion snuffs it out and pushes back from the table. Stretching his back he gets up, rubs his eyes with stained fingers and walks over to the window, pulling it open.

A thin tendril of smoke rises from the candle, billowing in the rush of air coming from the open window.

Bright sunlight glares into the room, the distant yellow disc rising steadily over the hills in the distant.

The fresh smell of morning reaches his nose, the moisture from the previous evening’s rain burning away.

Leaning on the window sill, Simion glances down into the town, the sounds of activity floating on the air.

Sighing, he turns and walks back to the table, sitting down sadly and reaches for a new paper. A small stack of pages, words scribbled across it in a neat hand, stand beside the book.

Looking at the book, Simion sighs again.

‘So many pages I have written, and still it has only been five pages of the book. This is going to take a very long time.’

Resigning himself to his fate he bends forwards, picks up a pencil and begins to write anew, the sun shining brightly on his back, warming his cold bones.