The Angaran Chronicles: The Ritual by BAD Agar (books like beach read .txt) 📕

The Ritual by Benjamin Agar

Year: 2503 AHV (After Holy Victory)

Age: Late Industra era

Country: The Kingdom of Amartis

'What name do you think you wanna take?' said Karetil, grinning up at Alathis. Alathis couldn't return the dwarf's enthusiasm, he just pursed his lips and shrugged.

'I've been looking into the history books,' Karetil said, either failing at noticing or ignoring Alathis' trepidation. 'There are so many awesome Hunter-dwarves that I can't choose.'

Alathis nodded. They were in their large dormitory, the bright white walls and ceiling surrounded Alathis' small dorm, which was enclosed from the fifteen others around by 1.8-metre tall blue walls.

Karetil sat on Alathis' single, unmade bed, his short legs kicking in the air. It was childish, foolish.

Alathis fought to hide his disdain. After all, they'd been through Karetil should've grown up by now.

'There was the one I saw, though,' said Karetil. 'A powerful dwarf mage that all by himself took down a whole Isstarssian kidnapping convoy eighty years ago.'

'How'd he die?' Alathis,' chest was tight. He wanted Karetil gone, but couldn't find the heart to tell him too.

'He died when he and a bunch of other Hunters fought off a troll alliance in north Camaria,' said Karetil. 'Was overwhelmed by a horde of goblins, but killed heaps before he went down.'

Unlike many Hunter neophytes, Alathis included, Karetil had chosen to specialise as a mage and he was one of the best in the coven.

'You alright?' said Karetil.

Alathis turned and approached his locker. With quick hands, he punched the code into the padlock with 'clack clacks' and swung the metal door open with more strength than intended.

He caught his reflection in the mirror on the back of the door. A few people, many girls, had described him as being 'cute' or 'handsome.' His jawline was so sharp, he suspected he could use his chin as a weapon. His thin nose was long and like many a Hunter-neophyte, Alathis skin was pale, almost as the white as the walls, from having lived most his life underground. His shoulder-length, brown hair jutted out in every imaginable direction. The right side of his face hidden beneath his fringe. He wore the loose, black tunic all last year neophytes wore. Alathis had never even begun to think of himself being better or worse looking than anyone else, despite the mounting evidence. Alathis was determined to never let it go to his head. Looks weren't worth much. Well, except when they were, for potential assignments or whatever.

Alathis never understood why the Hunters gave them lockers. Let alone locks for them. They didn't have much to store since after being taken by the church. Five years ago, Alathis, Karetil and eight others had stumbled in here with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Everything they owned was now 'standard issue,' standard issue sleepwear, standard-issue exercise books, standard-issue toiletries, standard-issue wrist timepieces, standard-issue shoes. All of it produced in Valandri, the vampire nation. No one had anything worth stealing, nothing personal to protect. To Alathis a locker was a pointless gesture, one not worth the time and resources.

Alathis reached in and took out his wooden practice sword.

'You going to the training room?' said Karetil.

Alathis stayed silent, knowing Karetil already knew the answer.

'I'll come. You might use a sparring partner.'

The human neophyte snorted and shook his head. 'You know you won't last long enough to provide me much practice.'

Karetil shrugged. 'True. You're one of the best. You could just go easy on me, just this once.'

'The best,' Alathis couldn't help correct. 'And remember what happened the last time I bet you?'

Karetil sighed. Karetil had lost his shit and thrown about fireballs, destroying much of the training equipment. They'd then been forced to spend months cleaning the Coven floors with toothbrushes. Alathis was still a bit bitter about it.

'No,' said Karetil. "But we might not have to. Tomorrow we finally go through the Ritual. We'll finally be apprentices. Walking the continent, killing vampires.'

The dwarf's words sent pain shivering through Alathis' heart. He slipped out of his dorm.

'Wait,' said Karetil, who started after him but Alathis stopped and pointed at the dwarf.

'I'm sorry, but I just want to be alone,' he said. 'I'll be back later.'

Without waiting for a response, Alathis turned and stormed out the entranceway.

Much to Alathis' relief, he found the training room empty. He'd thought so; it was six in the evening, so most neophytes were busy with study.

Alathis ignored the training dummies lining the left wall and the wooden weapons on the right while attempting to avert his attention from the large mirror in the north. Arms of every type hung there, from daggers to double-headed two-handed axes. In the first few years, every neophyte was encouraged to practise with all weapons. First, to learn how to wield each so if they fought an enemy who used one, they knew how to fight it. Second to choose which one to specialise. Alathis had fallen in love with the longsword almost straight away. It wasn't too heavy or too short. It could both stab and slice. Its hilt and cross-guard could be used as weapons if needs must and wielded with one or two hands. In short, it was adaptable, practical. But above all else, there was certain artistry, freedom to the long sword. It could be wielded like a curved cutting blade or even a specialist stabbing blade such as a rapier.

Faster than even his eye could follow, Alathis drew his sword and was in a ready stance. Then he launched into it. His every technique, his every step, every cut, stab and parry were perfect. He'd perform a technique, a downward vertical strike or any other, then the appropriate dodge, block or dart. Then counter. It was called shadow swordplay. He did it by instinct, with no rhyme or reason; it emptied his mind, forced away the fear — the anxiety.

They'd been taught meditation from a young age. It'd never worked for Alathis; sitting and humming couldn't calm his forever busy mind. But swinging a sword or punching and kicking the air, did. Alathis wasn't as naive as most of the other acolytes; he knew Hunters were, for all intents and purposes, assassins. And he knew he had to be a damn good one to live even a year of his apprenticeship. That's if he managed to survive the Ritual somehow.

So lost in training Alathis failed to notice the vampire enter the room.

'Neophyte Alathis.'

Alathis leapt so high he almost hit the ceiling and turned to find Kolmath approaching. The once-elf vampire's face was unreadable, her hands behind her back. She was tall for an elf: around 1.77 metres. Like all her kin, she was long-limbed, graceful. She wore plain white robes like all other teachers — her skin just as inhumanly stark as her robes. She stared at him with large, dark green eyes and her long grey hair pulled back into a bun. She was beautiful, even for an elf she. It almost made him forget his ingrained instinct at recognising the wrongness vampires exuded.

'Teacher,' said Alathis.

Kolmath waved dismissal at Alathis' formality and approached the wall of weapons.

'Karetil came to me,' she said. 'He's concerned about you.'

'He is?'

'Indeed,' she said and reached to touch a broadsword. 'You underestimate him, I think. He may act childish, but he has every bit the same training at reading people as you.'

Alathis didn't reply, he just cut the air, first horizontally, then upward diagonally.

'You know, when you first came to the coven, I was not sure what to make of you,' said Kolmath, while running her long, slender fingers along the haft of a great axe. 'You were so sullen, sulky, you more so than the other survivors of the attack. I understood why, after talking with Telric.'

Alathis treated her with his most murderous glare. 'I don't want to talk about that, teacher.'

Kolmath turned to him. 'You will have to, Alathis. One day. What you went through, what you had to do, that is something even the hardiest of us would find hard to cope with, it might be a good idea to speak of it before going through the Ritual.'

Alathis couldn't help flinching at her mention of The Ritual.

'Ah. So you are afraid,' said Kolmath as she took a small axe and tested its weight. 'Do not be ashamed; it is only natural.'

She swung it a few times, but the swings were so fast Alathis couldn't count them.

'Every neophyte in your position is afraid before the Ritual.'

'Well, except Karetil,' said Alathis.

'He, too, is afraid, young Alathis,' said Kolmath. 'Again, you underestimate your friend, he is just far better at hiding it. Or you might be overestimating him, from a certain point of view.'

Alathis swallowed. 'I don't want to die.'

'Everything dies,' said Kolmath. 'Even Hunters, even vampires, even the Jaroai. It is nothing to fear. It is just nothingness.'

'But-'

'You can back out,' Kolmath interrupted, but without anger or condescension. 'Stay here as a mortal or I could sire you, right here, right now. There is nothing wrong with that; many have chosen that path over the centuries.'

Alathis swallowed, despite how much it'd hurt, he forced himself to remember, of the promise he'd made five years ago. He hoped it'd steel him, chase away the fear, it didn't. But it caused him to stop considering Kolmath's offers.

Kolmath studied him in silence, her slender features still unreadable. 'You are a strange one, Alathis,' she said, and it caught him off guard.

'Excuse me?'

'You heard me. You can be so confident, almost arrogant in one thing but lack confidence in another,' she said. 'You remind me of someone.'

'Who? May I ask?'

She laughed. Alathis liked her laugh.

'I do not think he would appreciate that.'

'I've had a hard life, teacher,' he said. 'Even before the church took me. Even before the...incident.'

'I can see that, Alathis. You are wise beyond your years, but you are still young and have much to learn. Jaroai! I am two hundred and fifty years old, and I still have much to learn. But you must remember...'

'Remember what?'

'That whatever you have been through, young Alathis, there is always someone, somewhere who's been through worse. The elves and dwarves that were enslaved for so long and those who are still enslaved by the church. The starving, poverty-stricken children in Iritain. You have received the best education on the continent. You know the truths of this world.'

Alathis grinned. 'I could've been a priest of Jaroai; they are far more privileged and are higher in this society than Hunters or vampires.'

Kolmath laughed. 'I doubt you would have made it through their trials, were you ever a true believer, Alathis?'

'No, not really' said Alathis, shuffling his foot.

'I could tell that from the start. If I could tell it from a glance, the church would see it too.'

He frowned. 'I could pretend-'

'The church of Jaroai might be driven by blind illogical faith, but they are not stupid. Maybe you could pretend it now, after years of training, but as the child you were. No, just no.'

She slashed her axe