CIRCLE OF SHADOWS Part 1: Shadow Chaser

Startling awake from the deep unconscious sleep induced by the vision, Leigh raises his head slowly, a painful headache pounding against his skull, bright flashes of light stabbing through his eyes.

Groaning he turns on his back, swings his legs over the edge of the bed and sits up.

Head in hands he surveys the small room, the sharp sunlight filtering through the closed windows causing his eyes to ache.

A loud banging sound filters through his fogged mind, and he realises he has been sitting in this position for a while.

Getting up from the bed he stumbles as a sharp pain arcs down his spine, sending his lower back muscles into spasm.

Grunting he shuffles to the closed door, edging it open slightly to peer into the adjoining chamber.

The banging echoes louder through the silent room, and with a loud groan Leigh opens the door wider.

Shuffling one step at a time he moves towards the door, mumbling to himself how annoying the person on the other side is and that the persistence of the persons banging grates his every nerve.

Face pulled in a tight grimace he reaches for the door handle and jerks the door open.

‘What do you want!?’

His scream echoes down the hallway, startling Garet into dumbfounded silence, his meaty fist halting midair on its way to another bang on the door.

Garet drops his fist to his side and stammers abashed, ‘I am sorry my friend, I feared the worse after you failed to show at the morning meet.’

Dipping his head ashamed he talks rapidly on.

‘I thought you might be dead so I came to look in on you.’

Leigh sighs and slumps weakly against the door, breathing shallow and tight in his chest.

‘Leigh! What ails you?’

Garet grabs Leigh by the shoulders, holding him up as he begins to slump towards the floor.

Grunting with the effort to help the frail mage into the room, much heavier then he looks, Garet half carries, half leads Leigh to a wooden chair by the table.

‘Sit, sit, sit. Let me brew some tea.’

Garet flits and tots around Leigh like a concerned midwife would at a difficult birthing.

Grumbling incoherently Garet spins around in the room, in his haste looking like a startled mouse running around in circles.

Leigh looks on in amazement, mouth pulling into an amused grimace even through the pain. Stifling a soft guffaw from erupting, he leans back in the chair and says in a soft voice.

‘The pot is over by the cupboard. Tea is in the bowl.’

Garet stops momentarily, then nods his head solemnly and heads to the cupboard, his bulky frame hiding his activities behind it.

Leigh sighs and leans back in the chair, closing his eyes.

A small shake brings him around again, the painful ache in his head subdued but not gone. Leigh opens his eyes and looks up into the concerned face of his dear friend, a steaming cup held tightly in his one hand.

‘You must drink this Leigh. It will help settle you down. And then we can talk about it.’

Leigh nods wearily, but accepts the proffered cup, lifting it gently to his lips. The sharp smell of brewed herbs assaults his nose, the heady flavour lifting his sagging spirits instantly.

Savouring the smell, Leigh inhales deeply, takes a sip and then lowers the cup slowly. Glancing over the rim of the cup at Garet, he sees the concern etched deeply in Garet’s face.

‘I had a vision last night.’

His statement sounds flat in the silence, his voice hoarse and throat dry.

Garet sits forward eagerly, silently awaiting Leigh to continue talking.

Watching his friend’s eagerness playing across his whole body, Leigh shakes his head inwardly.

‘If you only knew what it entailed my friend, you would be saddened and frightened... and not nearly so eager to hear my tale. I can promise you this...’

Leigh pauses here and takes another swallow of the warm liquid, the heat suffusing his whole body.

‘...there lies a dark and dangerous time ahead for us. All of us! All the known lands and beyond if we do not stop the approaching tide of despair and horror ascending upon us.’

Garet blinks his eyes rapidly as Leigh swallows more of the tea, dips his head and whispers softly.

‘Tell me my friend. Share this burden of prescience with me. Tell me what you have witnessed and then we can plan what to do.’

Leigh nods his head stiffly, eyes flashing sharply as he prepares to retell the tale.

‘Do that thing you did last night. For in the days to come walls will sprout ears and eyes, unseen and unknown to us.’

Garet nods silently, lifts his hands and gestures the spell lines through the air.

The air shimmers briefly, wavering like heat rising from a fire, and as Galen drops his hands he says.

‘It is done. We may speak freely.’

Leigh nods his head and places the cup on the table next to him. Leaning forwards he lays his elbows on his knees and rests his head on his clenched hands.

Knuckles white he takes a deep breath before clearing his throat and wetting his lips with his tongue.

Garet leans closer, anticipation written across his face, ears attuned to capture every word Leigh will utter.

Leigh begins haltingly, voice soft and unsteady.

‘After I left you last night, as I reached my chambers I felt the tremors of prescience hammer at my mind’s door.’

With one hand Leigh scratches at his hair, the thin wispy strands falling across his brow, pain still written in his eyes.

‘I eventually made it to my bed chamber where the vision took a hold of me. You know how it works, Garet. It is completely uncontrollable.’

Garet nods his head as he listens to Leigh’s words, staying silent and attentive.

‘When the vision came it was a shock. That is why I am in the state I am. It has been many years since I had a vision that has left me so weak and impaired.’

Saying this Leigh reaches for the cup, takes a quick sip before continuing, more assured and forceful.

‘This is the vision in the form I saw, mark them well and etch it into your mind, as witness you shall swear to the vision of the true.’

Leigh’s voice strong and steady as he intones the words of the Prescient Rites, binding both him and Garet to a solemn

oath of truth. Raising his left hand to his temple Garet intones the ritual response.

‘I so hereby witness and swear.’

Leigh nods his head and sits back in his chair as he closes his eyes. His breathing deep and relaxed he enters a meditative state, calmness radiating from him as he begins to recite the vision into words.

’A Red Army marches across the lands we know. At their helm rides a leader such as none before. He is shrouded in a cloak of blood red.

Disease and death follow in the wake of this force, throwing the world into disarray and violent, bloody chaos.

The leader laughs at the weakness spread out in front of his army, for he wields a mighty power, a white light of unsurpassed strength in his palm.

Albino is the leader, bleached white his colour. With eyes red and bright he spreads death to many.

First branch.

From the distance, but not its true origin, a figure draped in blackness appears. Shadows hide its features and form.

It is mighty in strength and opposes the deadly force upon the lands.

Victory lies in the force that is black.

Second branch.

If the black force does not appear, the lands will be thrown into chaos and hellish disorder for eternity. For never again shall there be a power to rise that will over shadow the Red Albino. Undying. All powerful.

Eternal night!’

With a huge intake of air, Leigh sits forwards, retching loudly in his chair.

Garet wipes a tear from his eye and looks distraught at his lifelong friend.

Leigh’s voice scratches from his throat, raspy and hoarser then before.

‘Did you record the vision, Garet?’

Garet sits in stunned silence nodding his head up and down, too afraid to trust his own voice in not betraying his fears.

‘Garet!’ Leigh prods him not unkindly, ‘you must recite the words or it is not concluded truthfully.’

The concern in Leigh’s voice reached through Garet’s shock and he opens his mouth slowly.

‘Herby witnessed and recorded the true vision, as was given to Leigh, Mage of the Red, First Order of the Prescients.’

Leigh nods his head, relief flooding through his face as he picks the cup up and sips the cooled tea slowly, certain the vision was etched into one of the books of vision kept hidden in the library below them.

Glancing at Garet, whose face had gone a shade whiter, he smiles and reaches over to pat him on the knee.

‘It will all be fine my friend.’

Garet smiles weakly at his friend, dips his chin and sips silently from his own cup.

Together they sit in silence as the morning bell tolls midday, the witnessing having taken the better part of the day to accomplish.

Garet glances down surprised at his stomach as it grumbles loudly beneath his shirt.

‘Let us go and eat some lunch. I am absolutely starving.’

Leigh agrees and gets up stiffly from the chair, swiping his hand through his thin hair and straightening his over shirt.

‘Lets. My belly is complaining just as hard.’

With a grin he walks to the door, opens it for Garet and they both step into the sun lightened hallway, all worries erased from their faces as they amble happily down the hall to the common rooms.

Deep in their chests though, each one feels the tug of fear and despair at what they had witnessed. The feeling of impeding doom swiftly coming closer: to overshadow their lives and dreams.

With heavy hearts they walk into the common room, shared by

different factions of the Red Order at meal times, but no one notices the angst written in their eyes.

Solemnly they break bread together, sharing a few jokes with other mages, listening attentively to stories and gossip told by the others.

All the time silently thinking of what can be done, formulating plans and ideas that might help them avert the disaster on the horizon.

Leigh catches Garet’s eye from across the room indicating that they should leave. Nodding imperceptibly, Garet speaks to the mage next to him, excuses himself discreetly and walks off towards the gardens outside.

Stepping into the bright midday sun, Garet squinting, his eyes narrowed thinly against the glare he looks around the gardens, seeking Leigh’s familiar face amongst the greenery and flowers.

A sharp finger pokes him in the rib and startled Garet swirls around, muttering a curse under his breath.

‘Shyi’s balls, Leigh!’

His friend snickers softly but abruptly turns serious, eyes darting around suspiciously, before leading Garet onto the paths ranging through the well kept gardens.

’We will have to be careful with the knowledge we have. And we have to act like all is still as always when we are in

public.’

Garet nods his head in agreement and whispers softly, ‘I have news. One mage told me that Venere has given the order that anyone trying to gain access to the tower room will be warned once, then killed if they did not heed the guards.’

‘What!?’ Leigh’s voice rising in astonishment.

‘Shhhhh!’

‘Sorry.’

‘No matter. The other piece of useful information is what is hidden in there with Simion.’

Leigh raises his eyebrows, impressed with the knowledge base Garet has to his disposal.

‘It has been confirmed that it is the Necra’s Tome of Death.’

Leigh whistles through his teeth.

‘Yes. The relic the Necra holds most dear is in the tower. Being translated and studied by Simion, whom, rumour has it, is the only one able to open the book as he has been given access by the High Master of the Necra himself.’

‘No wonder Venere wants to keep Simion out of circulation.’

Garet nods his head solemnly.

’Yes. It does make sense. But more is told. I have studied the rumours and myths surrounding the Tome. It is said that it is a white book, encrusted with gems to harness power, filled with dread secrets and spells of immense power. And if the book is to fall into the wrong hands it could bring about the

demise of our world.’

Leigh gapes open mouthed at these words and visibly shudders.

‘You do not think the white object in the vision is the Tome do you?’

Garet shakes his head gently in affirmation.

‘Shyi’s balls indeed!’

Silently the two friends walk back into the building, passing through the common room and entrenched in their own thoughts they ascend the stairs to the upper floors.

‘I bid you good afternoon now Garet. I must rest and think upon what we have learned. Shall we meet later?’

Garet looks at his friend, a smile flitting over his lips.

‘Till later Leigh. Rest well and I will let you know when and where we can meet.’

Nodding his head, Leigh pushes the door to his chamber open, enters the room and closes the door softly behind him.

Garet gazes at the closed door a few moments longer before turning around and heading up the stairs to his own chamber one level higher.

Heart heavy with anguish, he pulls open the door and walks in, thoughts and mind far away as he closes the door.

Turning, eyes widening he gasps loudly as he manages to draw a breath into his lungs.

‘Shiy protect me!’ his cry echoes shrilly down the silent halls, ending as abruptly as it had sounded.