Chosen: Book 1 in the Ancients of Light series Read online

  Lorcan was uncertain whether to confirm the girl’s observation or ignore it. If she started squawking as she had moments before he might begin to seriously regret his decision to save her from the Dark ones, but the upset in her eyes pulled at him. He nodded gravely, “Aye, little Kat, Papa is injured.” She frowned at that, poking at her father’s limp leg once and then worried her bottom lip with little white teeth. Gazing up at him, her voice was hopeful, “Sleeping?”

  He nodded down at her, happy to see she would not be prone to wailing at every opportunity. Placing his hand atop her head, he confirmed, “Aye, princess, sleeping.”

  The shift in her demeanor was instantaneous. Kaitriana beamed at him, she liked this Warrior. There were many Warriors in her Caste, but he was the biggest and he was helping her papa. Having decided that he would be her newest friend, she pointed her little finger back at the bloodied head and reported in a conspiratorial whisper, “He bad…. vamp…ire…he dead dead dead.”

  Her mother reappeared in the doorway before he was required to answer, arms laden with their belongings. Vevila looked to Lorcan with apology, “She is too young to understand the difference between those of Light and of Dark, it is best that she stay away from all of your kind until her powers are fully evolved.”

  Lorcan had taken no offense at the girl, he had assumed the child would be unfamiliar with the Vampire breed. That Vevila had casually grouped him in with all other Vampire, dismissing readily the circumstances of his birth, stung more than he expected. He waved off her explanation impatiently and squatted to scoop the girl with his free arm. Kaitriana liked that and affectionately patted his cheek with her dirt-smudged hand to let him know as much. His attention was still centered on Vevila, “We must go and you must remain still; it will require much strength to transport the three of you with me.” As she was nodding, he issued an exasperated sigh; Kaitriana had been repeatedly yanking at his hair. His patience gone, he fixed a hard stare on the child, his voice stern “Cease!”

  He caught the terror in her eyes as they locked with his and her lower lip was trembling again. Apparently she was going to be prone to screech at every little offense. He waited for her to start howling, but instead she put her little hand back to the side of his cheek and whispered with a nod in the direction that she faced over his shoulder, “Bad Bad Bad…vamp…ire….he no dead.”

  Lorcan spun quickly, encircling the girl tighter in his hold and already preparing to shadow. His cold gaze landed on Rhydach at the far edge of the woods. At least fifty Dark warriors fanned out behind him. The little authoritarian found her voice again as she shifted in Lorcan’s arms to face the Ancient Dark leader as well, “No no no…bad bad bad.” Though her left hand had knotted the material of Lorcan’s shirt in her fright, her right was directed towards their enemy. Blue light sparkled at her fingertips.

  Giving no heed to the little witchling, the Dark that had earlier tracked her father now recklessly raised his sword and pointed it in Lorcan’s direction in a show of might. His bravery was bolstered by the many behind him. The act of aggression made him the focus of the child’s attention and the sparks of blue took the shape of an orb in her palm. It shot across the clearing, striking the vampire full in the chest.

  The unfortunate vampire burst into flames as though scorched by the rays of the sun and confusion and panic ensued in the ranks of the Dark warriors. The chaos provided the avenue for their escape. Little would keep Lorcan from engaging Rhydach in battle when given the opportunity, but what he held in his arms today may well be the future of the Realm and he would protect her. Still reeling over the display of power from the little witch, he retreated from the fight, shadowing away with Rhydach’s bellow of rage echoing after them.

  CHAPTER 2

  The strain of pulling the three with him as he shadowed temporarily taxed Lorcan’s strength so much that he nearly dropped the girl as they materialized. He had brought them to Laverock, the dilapidated castle that had once been seat to the Warrior Caste of Witch. It had been his mother’s estate through her position as leader of the Caste.

  The dank air inside the walls of crumbling rock told of the centuries that the building had remained unoccupied and untended. Lorcan had spent his youth racing the halls with his brothers, carefree and happy under his mother’s love and guidance and he had not returned to the location since his mother’s death. Why he chose to return here now was still not clear to him, but his mood immediately darkened and his discomfort was apparent.

  The stone walls would protect them as long as required, no one dared venture here. The last of the occupants had left in the weeks following Brisen’s death as the escalating tensions between the Vampire and Witch had erupted into battles. Alaric had no desire to remain within the confines of a place founded on witchery and in his rage he wanted no Witch to find home there either. The Ancient had banned all immortals from the ancestral estate and none had defied his dictate…until today.

  Lorcan was snapped from his reverie by the little witchling at his hip clapping her hands happily and bouncing up and down in her excitement. She offered him a grin; she really liked this warrior. Kaitriana combined her giggling laughter with her demand, “Again…again again again.”

  He gave her a stern frown and set her down abruptly, scanning the hall. It had not withstood well the many years of abandonment. The errant thought of how disappointed his mother would be with the condition of her once splendid home caused a flash of guilt which served only to darken his mood further. Turning to Vevila, his tone was cool, “Tend your male.”

  Banishing them along with the memories of his mother from his thoughts, Lorcan set about finding something that he could put into the hearth to be burned for warmth. Vevila was continually interrupted in her attempts to survey the extent of Elfred’s wounds as she had to call the little one back from trailing after the vampire. Finally, her frustration mounting, she waited for Lorcan’s next appearance and beckoned him with an imploring look.

  A curt nod conveyed his understanding while his jaw clenched in vexation over being saddled with the errant child. Lorcan looked down to acknowledge his shadow, not bothering to hide his exasperation, “Come, wee one, allow your mother to focus on her healing.” Oblivious to the reluctance of her companion, delight lit Kaitriana’s features. She raced ahead in the direction he had been heading, anticipating adventure with the big warrior.

  Exploring the numerous rooms on the first floor, he managed to locate a good amount of dry material which would be suitable for fire. That was a feat in itself considering the number of times he had to remove the child from whatever she had climbed up to perch on or had crawled under to investigate. During their exploration Lorcan had also discovered that one of the smaller rooms off of the main hall had weathered decently well; it appeared dry and would provide decent shelter to them for the remainder of the day. Between the fatigue that was eating at him from the battle the night before and the strain of the vigil he was having to maintain over the little minx that seemed set on getting herself injured or lost, Lorcan was exhausted and feeling every bit of his two thousand and thirty-seven years. Sometime on the final trek back to the main hall the girl had managed to locate another furry friend, but he lacked the strength to argue with her much less make her leave the eight-legged beastie behind.

  When they reached the main hall, Vevila had completed her initial tending of Elfred. The worst injuries were bound in strips of cloth that she had removed from one of her satchels. Lorcan wondered at that, he would have expected the witch’s magic to be strong enough to heal without the aid of medicine and bandages. Keeping silent on his thoughts, he caught Vevila’s gaze and indicated the direction of the room where he had made their temporary lodging before turning that way himself.

  Lorcan deposited the last of the materials in the small hearth as Kaitriana followed along, babbling to her new friend. All the while she kept a keen eye on the warrior’s activity. Finally she stopped beside Lorcan to study the results of
his work. Her finger jabbed towards the hearth, “Fire?”

  He absently nodded in answer to her question, arms folded across his chest as he surveyed the stack of debris while wondering if Vevila would have the necessary materials for him to set the blaze. Another thought immediately followed and Lorcan glanced down speculatively at the girl, “Kaitriana, can you make fire?”

  She beamed up at Lorcan; she knew the warrior liked her. Setting her friend to the floor, Kaitriana watched him scurry away before nodding eagerly. Mimicking Lorcan’s pose, the little witch crossed her arms over her chest and studied the stacked tender in the hearth.

  Seeing no action, Lorcan rephrased, “Kaitriana, will you make the fire?”

  With the crook of a chubby finger she motioned him down to her level. When he leaned in close she whispered, “Mama say no no no. Bad bad bad to do magic without Mama or Papa.”

  Smiling at her suddenly serious demeanor, he tucked a finger under her chin and whispered back his promise, “Mama will not say ‘bad’ this time and Lorcan will not let you be in trouble.”

  Kaitriana actually looked as if she were weighing the value of his vow for a minute before she waved her hand at the hearth. The flames were immediate and she danced in a circle, excitedly chanting, “Fire fire fire….me good good witch.” She stopped her crazy twirling suddenly and her hands settled on her hips. She stared him down imperiously, waiting on his agreement.

  Lorcan could not decide if the little one before him was an adorable treasure or a spoiled brat, but at the moment she pleased him. He offered her a grin, “Yes, a good witch.”

  She was having none of it. Stabbing him with the magical intensity of that blue gaze, she corrected, “Good good witch.”

  He chuckled and swept her up in his arms. Before giving his agreement, Lorcan settled in an overly large chair in decent condition that remained near the hearth, “Yes Kaitriana, good good.” He knew he would be in no condition to shadow the family to their home until he found some much needed rest and the place before the fire had become too inviting to resist.

  The little thing in his arms proceeded to give him a thorough study – she tousled his hair, tugged at each ear while peering inside, traced the calluses over his palms after comparing the size of her tiny hands to his, pulled at the various trappings of his war attire, and felt of his entire face – before finally settling from her squirming exploration. Completing her examination, she announced with all the regality that a four year old could muster, “You a good good Warrior.” Her hand patted the top of his head approvingly with her proclamation.

  Lorcan was certainly glad the girl had not prodded at his mouth overmuch as he was feeling the hunger rising with his fatigue; his vampire’s fangs were a bit more prominent that he would like and he certainly had no desire to be set to flame by his little companion. He could hear Vevila moving around in the adjacent room. While duty nudged him to check on her, the warmth of the fire lulled him. He began to doze until the girl started squirming again; this time she stood on his legs so that her face was level with his. He waited, remaining still in hopes that she would lose interest and leave him to join her mother or take a nap herself. Minutes stretched by, but he still felt her gaze and then her hands moving at his neck. Finally he slid his lids up with a long suffering sigh, “Can you not be still child?”

  She had his medallion in her grubby paw, having tugged it from the confines of his shirt. It bore the symbols of his bloodline and his Coven. She pulled on the length of leather cord that kept it around his neck, looking from him and back again. In a hushed voice she said, “Vamp…ire,” while poking at the symbols on the metal piece. Apparently Vevila had been thorough in the child’s education regarding the Vampire class.

  Pulling the disc impatiently from her grasp, he ignored her statement and tucked it back into his tunic before admonishing gruffly, “Be still child and let me rest.”

  Kaitriana was not to be dissuaded from her discovery and poked at his chest where he had tucked the medallion, repeating, “Vamp…ire.” Her expression was puzzled before she raised that same finger to jab at his upper lip. She continued to prod, a frown on her brow. Her voice was a combination of worry and sadness when she repeated the word once more in question, but she made no move to distance herself from him.

  Lorcan ran his hand wearily through his hair but still the little one did not break her inquisitive gaze from his. In his exhaustion he was not sure that he really cared all together too much if the Warrior of the Light was about to meet his end at the hands of a precocious toddler. Still he kept her hands within range of his gaze and slowly nodded, “Aye Kaitriana, Vampire.”

  Tilting her head to study his face more closely, her eyes evidenced that she was not certain if he was playing some game with her. Kaitriana pressed her finger to the seam of his lips, explaining, “Vam…pire bad bad bad…you good good Warrior.”

  He nearly groaned aloud; this child was plaguing him more than his enemy had last night. He should not be left to handle the inquiries from the witchling, but he heard no sounds of activity within the keep and assumed Vevila and Elfred had found their rest. At least someone had, he thought sourly.

  It was important that the child not fear him, though it was equally important that she not trust his kind until she grew wise enough to understand the difference between the Light and the Dark and the peril either faction might present. She poked at his lip again and he obliging let her raise the edge of his upper to check. Her eyes grew wide. Lorcan witnessed a sparkle of brilliant blue in their depths as her magic surged when she spied the tip of fang. The edges of her irises became ringed with the glittering color. To his surprise, Kaitriana did not run off in terror. Instead she moved her face closer to his to examine the tooth and whispered cutely, “Vam…pire…chomp chomp chomp…eat witches.” She pulled back slowly but there was still no light firing at her fingertips, just that eerie gaze delving into his.

  He kept still as he answered her, lest she decide to raise her magic against him, “Lorcan does not chomp chomp chomp…witches.” He almost chuckled. The child did not look convinced so he added solemnly, “Lorcan’s mama was a witch. I will not chomp chomp you, Kaitriana.”

  She chewed on her lower lip considering this latest bit and then understanding dawned. Her mama was a witch too. Grinning at him, she patted his cheek. All was good.

  Lorcan added firmly to be certain she understood, “Other vampire bad bad, they chomp chomp witches.”

  Her expression changed to mirror the grave seriousness of his as she nodded, “Lorcan…good good.” He was pleased with her agreement and smiled. Because the little witch’s eyes appeared to be drooping, he also thought he might just get some rest. She slid both hands up to his face once more, her tiny little fingers grasping his cheeks. Kaitriana smiled brightly. She now had a special Warrior friend and announced in a possessive tone, “Mine.” She gave him a peck on his brow and then repeated so that he would not mistake her, “Lorcan…mine.” She turned abruptly, the matter settled in her mind, and dropped into his lap. Snuggling down in the crook of his arm, she was asleep quickly.

  He shook his head and could not help the grin that tugged at his lips. The little witch certainly was possessive…and bossy. He relaxed and too dozed within minutes.

  Vevila waited a while longer before exiting silently from her spot in the doorway; a warm smile graced her lips as she went to tend her husband.

  CHAPTER 3

  Lorcan awoke abruptly, as was his nature as a Vampire, a couple hours later. He remained unmoving for a short time, conscious of the child snuggled up to him. Slowly he extracted himself from her grasp and eased her to the seat of the chair. He waited to see her curl up in a ball, her sleep undisturbed, before he went in search of her mother. He found Vevila in the great hall seated on the floor before the hearth, gazing blankly into its darkness. She jumped, having been caught unaware when Lorcan interrupted her thoughts quietly, “How is Elfred?”

  Shifting her position to gi
ve him her attention without rising, she replied wearily, “He shall be well enough for travel by this night. I offer you my gratitude Lorcan. You could have easily left us to the Dark ones or taken Kaitriana to your Council. I thank you for protecting the child.”

  Lorcan waved off her thanks, he did not need the witch indebted to him nor did he need thanks for doing that which was right. His character would no sooner allow him to seek a child’s harm than kill his own kin and either of the actions she described would have done the same. He also did not need her to misconstrue his actions; the deeds of this day would not align him with the Witch breed. He was, not by birth but nonetheless, a Vampire, “Vevila, I fight for the Light and the good of the Realm. Protecting the prophesied Chosen is part of that, nothing more.”

  She shook her head at him, needing him to acknowledge that his honor and his character were in part derived from his mother. Vevila had to know that part of Brisen remained within him, she missed her friend desperately. Returning to the home of her long-dead friend brought the feelings flooding to the surface, “Your mother would say that the honor of the Warrior Caste and the Witch within you drives you to protect that which is your legacy.”

  Lorcan bristled at the mention of Brisen and his lineage. The mention of the honor of his mother, the same one that had brought death and destruction to this very home before her own demise, raised his ire. He responded with heated conviction, “There is no Witch left in me. It died with the transition and I am thankful to be rid of it.” He strode away from her, his anger escalating quickly over the challenge he viewed in her gaze.

  “Lorcan, your eyes remain edged in blue even when fully in your Vampire rage. You may deny your mother and the goodness that was in her, but you cannot deny that her magic remains with you. She was the most powerful Ancient witch in creation and through your birth she passed that power to you. In fear of you, none will speak openly about the evidence of such, but the Realm is full of those that believe your magic remains intact.”