Well, it's October guys, and Strange Fate still hasn't arrived. Lol. I've been waiting for this forever. sigh So, writing my version of Strange Fate is like my way of venting over the fact that it's still not here. I hope you enjoy what I have so far!
Prologue
Kierlan Harman coughed into his sleeve as another storm of dust was kicked up into his face. The wind whipped the tiny granules against his cheek--a million tiny bites embedding into his flesh. He squinted until the onrush faded. His arm lowered as he heard his closest companion's string of profanity peter out with the calm.
Close in proximity, Kierlan thought with a self-derisive smirk as he thought about the situation he'd wound himself into. Definitely not close enough to trust. He'd sooner shove Donovan off the cliff than trust him with anything--least of all his life. The rocky outcropping stretched only a couple feet to their left before a dizzying fall to the riverbed below.
Survive that, he thought nastily of Donovan. Of course, Donovan would survive such a fall. Vampires were nearly immune to everything this planet could offer. Falls were no exception. Although the sound of his body connecting with the ground below would have been very satisfying indeed. Vampires were in no way immune to pain.
Coal black eyes regarded him as if Donovan could decipher the thoughts running through the young witch's head. That was impossible, of course. Back at camp, Kierlan had discretely created a spell to cover his mind from probing telepathic fingers. His mind was surrounded by a wall of pure obsidian.
It made his companion suspicious--Kierlan knew it did. But it was better than the alternative; to have his hidden thoughts ripped from his mind--toyed with--would be the greatest humiliation imaginable. He would not allow it. He had that much pride left.
"You'd better be right about this," Donovan barked impatiently.
Kierlan felt a rise of irritation. The idiot had been riding him the whole day. It made the witch want to snap out the wooden knife he'd secreted into his boot. Caution held him back from the impulsive act, but just barely. He'd need it in case things didn't turn out as planned.
"Of course I'm right!" He snapped.
Quick as lightening, a set of fingers were at his throat, gripping the fabric tightly. It nearly cut off his air tube, leaving him gasping for breath. He glared daggers at his enemy.
Donovan returned the intensity of his stare, his blunt features curled up in a snarl. "Don't get an attitude with me or I'll take you right back to camp and sacrifice you to the werewolves and there'll be one less wild power in the world. Just you think about that. I'm in charge here!"
As quick as the hand had grabbed him, the fingers released their hold. Wonderful, cool air rushed into his lungs. He didn't even care that it was littered with kicked up dust, causing him to let out another round of coughs--it was air; that was all that mattered.
Trying not to let the brooding gaze run into his features, he moved forward to the jagged opening of the cave. Swallowing his wounded pride, Kierlan ducked low to move through the opening.
"Let's keep moving," he muttered.
The vampire's feet were so soft against the stone, Kierlan couldn't even hear them. The only indication that the man was behind him was the soft breath rustling the back of his head. Donovan was doing it on purpose, riding his pack to pointedly announce his presence.
As they navigated deeper into the tunnel, the dim light turned into blackness--a deep, thick black only conducive to vampire sight. Kierlan pulled the flashlight from his belt and sharp beam of light pierced the blackness.
It felt like hours of forward navigation on a downward turn before they finally reached a dead end. Kierlan took the crinkled page from his pocket even though he knew it by heart. It was written in the ancient language of the clan. It was older than Hecate herself.
Donovan snorted. "Do your stuff, witch."
Kierlan visibly stiffened. He spat. "I'm no witch!"
Donovan leaned forward with a derisive laugh and sniffed loudly for effect. "You certainly smell like one to me!"
"When the witches seceded from the Night World, I ceased to be one!" Kierlan insisted with an angry huff. "I'm a spell crafter. I am no witch! They're scum, just like the vermin!"
"Whatever, witch who isn't a witch, just do what you're told." Donovan emphasized the word witch, just to goad Kierlan's nerves and it was working. Kierlan was just about ready to yank the knife out of his boot. Only one string of caution remained and it was just about ready to snap.
"It's right here," he said, changing the subject. "Right behind that wall. It's where one of the dragons sleeps."
"It better be stronger than the last one," Donovan remarked, pulling the pick from his back. He let out a loud exhale as the pick shot toward the wall and a large chunk of stone crumbled away with the force of his blow. "Azdeha was a good one on your part, but he just wasn't good enough when it came to that witch."
"Of course he'll be good enough," Kierlan lied. In all honesty, he wasn't sure how strong this dragon would be. All he knew was that the dragon was his ticket to safety.
He had been safe when Azdeha was alive--because he'd set him free. Azdeha was his ticket to power and glory in the Night World. And he had been powerful--he'd been promised a place in the world to come. But he'd lost his bargaining chip and now the Night World wanted to kill him. Without him, darkness would triumph. But with him, darkness would triumph anyway. There was no way he would offer his help to those daybreakers.
Why couldn't the idiots realize that? He was loyal to the Night World!
His lip curled. The idiots. Why did they want to save the vermin anyway? The world would be much better off if they could slash a good portion of them out of existence.
After a few minutes of Donovan's efforts, Kierlan sighed. This was taking forever.
"Donovan," he said. "Just cut me."
"No way!" Donovan's answer was quick and vehement. "What do you think I am? An idiot?"
Actually I do, Kierlan thought nastily.
He tried to pull up a reasonable tone. "We'll be digging for hours. I won't burn you. Word of honor!"
The vampire studied him for a moment, with a dark and unfathomable gaze. He spoke after a long moment. "Alright, but if you burn me, I'll see you on the other side--and it won't be pretty. I'll make sure of that--if the devil doesn't get you first."
"I've been warned," Kierlan replied, holding out an unblemished wrist.
A pair of translucent fangs slid downward, protruding from the vampire's mouth to graze his chin. With a quick movement, the vampire struck Kierlan. The wound stung immediately as the air irritated the nerves beneath the skin. Then the blood welled up, nearly a dark purple tinge in the sparsely lit cave.
Kierlan could feel the power building within him, a rush of blue sizzling through his veins. He loved the feeling. It let him know how much he could do--the very essence of his potential. He was a wild power and he was going to let Donovan know what that meant.
The power rose in him to a peak and burst forth, clearing out a chunk six feet wide before the blue subsided. There was not even a scattering of dust. The chunk of rock was just gone.
The rock wall that remained was smooth, save a small crevice that was emitting some dark substance. It spread quickly, dense and sour, surrounding them in seconds and completely eradicating the beam that shone from the flashlight. It winked out of existence like it had never been there.
"What the bloody--" Donovan began.
"The ancient witches called it "The Darkness"" Kierlan responded immediately, breathing in the dense air as he spoke. "Usually it's only found in crevices deep in the ground underneath volcanos. It's denser than air and impervious to light. Light waves can't pass through the stuff at all."
Donovan swore, probably because even he couldn't see through the impermeable blackness. Kierlan bet it was disconcerting to a vampire, a creature that was used to the best: best eyesight, best limbs, best everything. "So what do we do now?"
Oh, so now you want my opinion?
"Keep blasting the wall until I feel the seal around the dragon's cave burst," Kierlan responded aloud, but even as he said the words, he knew that it pointless. The old witches never added deposits of The Darkness around the sleeping dragons. This was just a diversion--a place meant to stop curiosity seekers from looking for the dragons. A trap of sorts. The blackness wouldn't clear for days, either.
Kierlan's heart sunk. He could have been the only man to awake not only one—but two dragons in his lifetime. But the opportunity had slipped from his fingers.
Once Donovan realized this, he would kill Kierlan. But Kierlan couldn't let that happen. No, he wanted to live.
"Well do it and do it fast," Donovan snapped. "I want out of this witchery now!"
Kierlan let a small smile curve up his features as he listened to the vampire's fumbling. Even he didn't have the sense of balance to move quietly in "The Darkness". With the flick of his wrist, the blue fire burst forth.
He didn't even hear Donovan scream. Only the comforting rush of the blue fire.
Donovan was gone. For good. Forget Kierlan's word of honor. He'd never held much stake on his word of honor anyway.
He slowly moved to pick his way back up to the surface, stumbling through the blackness. So that's what the darkness looks like, he mused as he found his way to the surface, playing with the thought. The world will end in blood and darkness...
He breathed in a long deep lungful of fresh air and felt the sunlight glance across his skin once more. He didn't realize how much it would mean to him to see the light of day again.
He glanced back, watching black vapors slowly spread out of the cave entrance, slipping along the ground. He had a sneaky feeling that he had just set off a process—an irreversible one.
Good, he thought. Let the end of the world come.
He looked down the mountainside, knowing that he wouldn't be able to see the set of tents hidden from his view by a large boulder. The camp wasn't far below.
Kierlan sighed. He couldn't go back there. They'd kill him.
So go to the Daybreakers, his mind sneered at him.
Shut up, he quelled it. He wanted to have nothing to do with them and their witch circles—nothing to do with their human-loving dances and parties. He had better things to do.
Even as he thought this, he realized that that was exactly what he'd have to do. He'd have to go to those Daybreakers. For his safety. Someday he could prove to the Night World that he was on their side. For now, he'd have to wait.
He quickly slipped away in the receding direction from the camp. He didn't have long before they awoke to find he and Donovan had disappeared.