Blue Words - Part I Page 28

shook me deep inside as the paranoia took hold. I dared not speak of it to Elya though.

  It was no more than one moon later that my fears came to a head. Long after dark there was a knock at the door. I snatched up my wand and slashed my palm. “Karrjk scwarve,” I whispered as I flung my hand forward releasing a spurt of ghostly, blue blood. At the command it glowed and changed, emerging as a flaming war axe which I caught in my hand. I saw terror in my love’s eyes; she knew nothing of my past, of my craft. I moved Elya away from the door and cautiously opened it. You can imagine my surprise and relief at the sight of my father. The axe flittered back to droplets at my feet. “My son,” he said, “I dared not contact you. He can hear.”

  Elya returned to bed, though I know she did not sleep. “We have made grave miscalculations my son.” We sat down to large mugs of honey mead. “This man will be our deaths.”

  “He will never find us.” I was dismissive. “No one knows my true self and you have been nothing more than an anonymous wanderer for many winters now. We are the last survivors because he cannot find us.”

  “It is the amulet which desires our deaths, this Kyran, is merely its tool. The Valkyrie, it has found a way to have its vengeance,” he said shaking his head. “No, he has known our locations from the beginning; I fear it is no accident we were left until last.”

  We didn’t have to wait long for our day of judgment to arrive.

  A Confrontation for the Ages

  “Sometimes a single death can achieve more than an ocean of corpses.”

  It’s difficult to describe the complexities of walking when invisible to someone who has never done it. It’s uncanny how much of one’s spacial awareness is dependent on their visual sense. Not only for sighting of obstacles around them, but also for manipulating their own body in relation to said obstacles. Most of the group coped well and quickly adapted to their new situation. George was not one of those. Yes, she was an active and co-ordinated individual under normal circumstances, but this was not a normal circumstance. She found herself tripping over and stumbling more than a one legged drunk. Nevertheless, after a series of stacks and spills, she found herself standing in one relatively unharmed piece at the outer fence of the compound.

  It was a very different picture to earlier that day. The previously dead area now teemed with activity. A mixture of Kyran’s private security and government forces patrolled the area. They seemed to have divided jurisdiction into two parts. The army, in their green fatigues, were patrolling the perimeter and grounds while Kyran’s men, clad in their dark grey body armour, maintained security of the buildings and infrastructure. Gudrik shuddered at the lies which Kyran must have spun to get government resources defending his personal facilities. “Gudrik!” piped George’s feral whisper from thin air. “Those soldiers are not part of Drake’s forces. They are simply following orders. Promise me you won’t hurt them.”

  The Warlock sighed a heavy breath. Her demands were growing tiresome and he snorted in distain, but George had a point. Kyran was touting lies about Gudrik’s callous brutality whenever he was given the platform to do so. Slaughtering a troop of government soldiers wouldn’t really aid his cause. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll leave the men in green, but the greys sealed their fate the second they signed to his cause.”

  Gudrik ran his hand down an invisible left arm until he reached his wrist. He removed the wand and released some blood. The trickle seemed to flow from nothing in the eyes of the shrouded onlookers, a tiny stream of blue running towards the ground. The floating trail drifted closer to the chain link fence until it was pressed against its wire diamonds. “Xitzsus terr,” boomed a voice from nowhere. The links of the fence panel in front of them became faint, as if a thin veil separated the wire from their reality. “Quickly step through,” came a gruff whisper.

  Logic dictated that traces of their presence be kept to a minimum, so non destructive methods would be used for as long as possible.

  Gudrik stepped through the faded panel first. As his shrouded presence passed through the fence it wisped and spiralled around him as if it consisted of nothing but smoke. The others cautiously followed, all the while trying to stay as silent as possible so as not to attract a nearby patrol. Gudrik kept an ever watchful eye. In fact, he was paying so much attention to the soldiers that he made a rare mistake. His trailing foot snagged a large rock. The Warlock stumbled and stomped trying to regain his balance. He failed, crashing heavily to the ground and freeing a large puff of dust. The wand was knocked from his hand. It made a metallic rattle as it skittered along the hard, dry earth. Gudrik quickly dragged himself forward, out of the way and began wildly searching for the invisible blade. He moved his hand side to side unsuccessfully until.....he brushed it with his hand. Once again it scuttled along the ground. This time the wand, along with a small slide of rocks and dust, cluttered into a curiously positioned grate. They tinkled and skittered down the metal pipe and beyond his reach.

  The rest of the group had by that stage moved through the fence. Gudrik released the blue word. Unfortunately, the strange noises had already attracted the nearby soldiers. They cautiously approached the shrouded group, closely inspecting Gudrik’s drag marks in the dirt. It may have been night, but the enormous floodlights left no lack of light. The invaders held their breath as they silently shuffled around, avoiding the soldiers’ every movement and keeping their shadows hidden within the sheds. It is not an easy task to keep actions silent, not to mention the fine, red dust which excitedly leapt into the air, betraying the secrecy of their every movement. The soldiers continued their inspection, proceeding to the fence. They poked, prodded and pulled on it, looking for signs of tampering. Thankfully, Gudrik’s plan had paid off and they were satisfied everything was above board. The men returned to their patrol.

  Gudrik and his team of shrouded infiltrators crept stealthily through the yard, weaving their way through the strategic littering of armed men, always carefully hiding their telltale shadows. Their paths varied, but their target was the same, a large hangar style door leading into a gargantuan shed which dwarfed everything around it. The only buildings of its size in Gudrik’s time had been stone castles and fortresses. Not the queer, smooth, seamless stone he had seen buildings made of in the city, but large blocks of raw, rough hewn stone. Never had he seen something so large constructed of metal.

  Inside the cavernous steel structure stood an entire battalion of greys, positioned in small groups about the space. The eastern wall was lined with a staircase leading up to an office perched one storey above them. Beneath it stood a set of large storage shelves. Several military vehicles were parked in rows against the western side of the shed.

  Gudrik’s stomach fluttered, something was wrong. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was it nerves? Was it danger? Why not, danger was all around him? Was it instinct telling him he was on the right path? There was no way to be certain, but it was somehow familiar and right now within this structure it was screaming at him.

  “Under the stairs,” whispered Gudrik to the group. The message passed along an invisible chain. The light breath of speech spooked a nearby grey to attention. He whipped his head around, scanning the direction which the sound had come from. His suspicions even drove him to wander over and investigate, but by that stage the group had moved on. Travel was easier inside the shed. The lighting cast shadows in all directions, their shadows simply mixed and blended with those of the greys.

  It was difficult coordinating a group of shrouded insurgents, especially in near silence. But huddled away in their refuge under the stairs, Gudrik felt safe to engage his troops. “Everyone check in.” In turn they whispered their name, acknowledging their presence.

  “George.”

  “Kahn.”

  “Malaki.”

  “Ami.” Everyone paused, anxiously awaiting the one remaining name.

  “Dorian!” prompted Gudrik, slightly louder than before. Still no answer came.

  “Look,” whi
spered Ami, “the ground, towards the jeep.” The others quickly began searching the area. There amongst the writhing weave of shadows Gudrik noticed tiny gravel stones, dragged in on tyres and boots, being disturbed and scattered, a sight which would have easily escaped notice if not for Ami’s keen eyes.

  “Get him Ami,” ordered Gudrik. The group anxiously stared into an empty patch of space, praying two shrouded lovers, separated by a hostile environment found each other. They soon lost the whereabouts of both amongst the movements of the greys. Minutes passed, they seemed lifetimes. Frantically, Gudrik swept his eyes from side to side scouring the ground. He even found himself whispering hushed promises to gods he didn’t believe in. You might imagine his surprise when they were actually answered.

  All of a sudden, they were just there. In a previously empty patch of space, there they suddenly were, as clear as day. First Dorian, mid-step creeping forwards, then Ami lurching along, her arms stretched out feeling after him. He was less than a pace in front of her. Dorian froze, completely visible and hopelessly vulnerable. The greys shot to attention, raising a barrage of rifle barrels.

  The look on Dorian’s face was fierce, but it was a forced ferocity masking panic