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

It was a roar which forced him to open his eyes, to turn to the opening at the back of the truck. The priestess, she was flinging fireballs at an unseen assailant.

'Die heretic!' she roared and raising her staff, her knuckles projected what looked like a wall of light, a split second before a figure dashed in and cut with a sword. Alathis couldn't make out who or what it was before it darted back, a split-second before the priestess arced out a cloud of flames. Alathis caught the sight of someone get engulfed in them, in less than a second they vaporised into nothingness. They couldn't even scream.

A figure slid in, stabbing their sword. But in surprising speed, the priestess blocked it with the haft of her staff. But she wasn't fast enough to stop the stroke which opened her throat in a spray of blood.

She fell to her knees, trying to stem the flood from her neck with desperate grasping. Then a man leapt into the truck, his large booted feet clanging. He was human, tall and well built. His greying hair cut short and slicked back. He carried an axe in his massive paw.

The children couldn't help reel, shaking and crying.

'Don't worry,' said the man. 'We won't hurt you. We are here to rescue you. My name is Telric, and I am a Hunter.'

The crying erupted into wailing.

Alathis shook himself from his reverie and looked down at the sword held at his side. It was made from Amartisian oak, one of the most durable, most expensive woods on the continent.

Most training weapons were made out of lesser quality trees, but he'd been gifted it they'd claimed out of respect and to make up for his real sword being taken from him.

But Alathis knew, he was given it out of pity.

Pity for he went through.

Pity for what he'd done.

He'd been living and learning in that coven for three years when it'd happened. It was during their nightly stroll, through the maze-like, white-walled corridors of the coven. They both carried their swords sheathed at their hips.

Alathis and Silette walked side by side. Nerves seemed to play through every inch of Alathis' being; his heart fluttered as it always did when near her.

They were silent but it wasn't awkward, they could be like this for hours. Alathis looked sidelong at Silette. The beautiful young girl's long brunette hair pulled into a high ponytail. Like most natives of Amartis, especially humans her skin tanned a nice brown. Slightly browner freckles littered across her high cheeks.

Silette caught him looking, causing Alathis to snap his attention aside.

And she smiled.

He smiled back.

'How was your day, Alathis?'

'Good, good,' he said. Alathis was a year older than her so they never had classes together. 'I bet Torvion at sparring today, disarmed him after ten seconds. Won all my five matches, too.'

Silette's smile split into a grin, causing Alathis to flinch.

'Nice,' she said. Torvion, a dwarf neophyte, was Alathis' rival. 'At this rate, you'll be the best swordsman in the coven, Alathis.'

Alathis felt his face flush. 'Th-thanks. H-how was yours?'

Silette pursed her lips and shrugged. 'I too did well at the sword. Won three of my five matches. Also managed to kill my history class and my psychology class, too.'

Alathis smiled. She was truly a studious neophyte, far more than Alathis. She excelled in almost every subject over him, all except Art, Psychology and Tactics which were Alathis' favourites. But even in those, he was barely ahead of her.

'I'm not surprised, Silette, you should be in my year. No, you should be two years ahead.'

Silette stopped, and Alathis met her gaze with his. Her eyes reminded him of the crystallised green which glittered throughout the waves of the sea off the Isstarrsian coast. The thought of that sea caused him to remember the red sea a sea which didn't hold that same glittering green, but an unnatural orangeish hue which defied nature. The red sea was cordoned off from the rest of the ocean by a vast mountain range that swept for fifteen miles to meet the land in the north and south.

The Valandrian scientists said the red sea was created when a meteorite hit the continent, billions of years ago. An extinction-level event for the creatures living on the world before humans and even the elves and dwarves emerged from the oceans as primitive creatures. Alathis had never liked the red sea. It wasn't that its depth was beyond measure, there was also a feeling which put him off. He'd swum there on several occasions, and each time he'd done it with the greatest hesitancy. Everyone else seemed fine with it, though.

'I don't know about that,' she said, knocking Alathis from his thoughts. 'That'd mean going through the Ritual early, and I don't think I'd be ready.'

Alathis laughed. 'If anyone would survive the Ritual, it'd be you, Silette.'

Silette's smile faded, and she shook her head. 'No. I don't think I will. If anyone will, it's you.'

He laughed again. "What? You able to see into the future, now? We both know that there are many paths of magic but foresight, prophecy, is bullshit. As far as we know, anyway. There are the mutations that happen to Hunters during the Ritual; someone might get one which allows them to-'

'I am not joking, Alathis,' she said but her intense stare showed it more than her words. 'I think when I'm old enough, I won't go through the Ritual.'

Alathis raised an eyebrow. 'Why?'

'I need you to make a promise to me, Alathis,' she said with a dismissive shake of her head. 'That no matter what happens, you will go through the Ritual.'

Alathis opened his mouth to reply; then the explosion erupted behind them. It rocked the corridor, the entire coven despite it being underground. Then the alarm klaxons burst into shrill life.

'Where-?' said Silette.

In less than a split second Alathis knew. He knew the layout of the coven better than any other neophyte. 'The entrance. What in the name of Jaroai-'

Alathis was interrupted by a scream in his ear, a blood shaking scream which made reel from the pain.

He fought to regain himself. Then he sensed her aura. It started to change and warp and-

The sound of a sword escaping its sheath made Alathis move. Silette's arcing blade missed his neck by a mere millimetre. His attuned instinct overrode his surprise, and he danced into a fighting stance then drew his sword to smash aside her stab.

'Alathis,' Silette screamed as she chopped downward forcing Alathis to sidestep. 'I can't control myself. My body-'

She stopped her sentence as though some will had forced the words down her throat. She came at him again, thrusting.

Alathis parried then ducked a horizontal slash. What in hell was going on? What was controlling Silette's limbs? Every time she attacked her aura seemed to fluctuate from normal into something Alathis had never sensed before.

Silette's wide, watering eyes seemed to scream and plead. But for what he didn't know.

The sounds of combat had erupted all through the coven, cries and clashes and the barking of guns.

Alathis blocked another cut and saw an opening. His instinct screamed to exploit it, but with every iota of his will, he managed to fight it.

'Alathis,' Silette cried, tears coated her cheeks. 'Stop holding back. I'll kill you. I can't control myself, please.'

'I-I can't,' said Alathis, back-peddling a diagonal cut. 'Fight it.'

'I can't. Can't you see? This is why you I know you'll survive the Ritual and I won't. Whatever this is, it saw me as weak. Weak enough to control. Kill me, Alathis. Kill me before I kill you.'

Tears turned Alathis own' vision into wavering blurs. 'No.'

Silette let out a frustrated growl as she lunged again.

Alathis parried her downward diagonal cut then weaved beneath her horizontal backswing.

'Fight it,' Alathis pleaded again. 'You can win, I know you can. Please.'

Silette's mouth moved but without words. Her anger was almost palpable.

For how long he dodged, deflected her attacks and moved through that corridor, Alathis didn't have a clue. All the while exhaustion seemed to tear into him, too leaden his limbs. Sweat drooled into his eyes and soaked his tunic.

He knew he was fitter, stronger. He hoped to outlast her, but in this state, she seemed immune to fatigue.

All the while the battle raged throughout the coven, made up from the familiar screams of the damaged and dying, the explosions of gunfire and clashing of blades. But Alathis only half heard it; his attention fixed on Silette.

Then, when he was on the verge of falling into exhaustion completely, an idea hit him. After back-slipping a slash, he stumbled and dropped his guard.

Silette cried out as her body slipped in and stabbed at Alathis' face.

He tilted his head in the last possible millisecond. But he was too slow to stop her sword from tearing across his cheek.

Ignoring the pain savaging his face, Alathis dropped his sword and grabbed Silette's arm.

'I'm sorry,' he said and snapped her thumb with a twist, then tore the sword from her grasp as she shrieked.

He dropped her sword beside his and fell to his knees, onto the flats of both blades, pinning them to the floor.

'What are you doing?' Silette said, each word was a sporadic, agonised hiss through her clenched teeth. She started to approach, her hands raising.

'If I can't outlast you, then I won't fight you,' said Alathis.

'You're insane,' she cried.

'Not the first time I've been accused-'

Her punch forced pain to burst through his cheek and blood flooded into his mouth, yet he still grinned at her and spat it out.

'-Of being insane.'

Then came another punch then another and another and another.

Each caused an explosion of agony through Alathis' face. Each opened the cut further, making more blood spray from it. Each snapped his head about, sending pain into the top of his spine.

He had no clue for how long she punched him or how many times, but it wasn't for as long as he'd first thought.

It took him a good few seconds for his vision to stop spinning to see her stumbling back, her face contorted. It took him even longer to realise the sounds of battle had died down.

Silette then slipped and fell on her back with a strangled cry.

Alathis wanted to yell her name, but vomit flooded from his mouth. He just managed to turn away to keep it from hitting her.

'Alathis,' she cried. 'H-Help...me.'

He wiped the blood from his gaze, and what he saw caused him to somehow forget the horrific agonised throbbing and swelling of his face.

Silette's feet had begun to evaporate, her toes breaking apart into tiny shards. Shards which faded as they rose in a constant stream. They moved with horrific slowness.

'Wh-what?'

'Don't...just stand...there. You can't imagine-'

She screamed and writhed, and more screams echoed throughout the coven.

'Please.'

'H-how?'

'You know how. Please, Alathis...Please.'

Alathis flinched,