Chosen: Book 1 in the Ancients of Light series (3 page)

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 give 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.”

Though he knew the truth of her words, he
would not entertain the conversation. The Witch Castes need not
think he would ever be returning to their ranks. The pain of his
mother’s betrayal of the Vampire, his father, and her own children
remained with him. Lorcan refused to consider the witches’ claims
of his mother’s innocence because the repercussions would be
devastating.

He had loved his mother. His relationship had
been closer with her than with his cold foreboding father, but all
evidence pointed to her being the betrayer who brought the Dark
into their home to slaughter his kin. She had left him and his
brothers to suffer the same fate. This fact had been cemented in
his consciousness as a lad and it had remained unchanged in over
the two millennia that had passed. Lorcan was estranged from the
Witch breed and would remain so out of duty to his Coven and honor
to his father.

He deigned not to give her the satisfaction
of arguing and answered her brusquely, “I need to feed.” Lorcan
turned and let his anger goad him into flashing his extended fangs.
In his now foul mood he took a bit of pleasure in the fear that
flashed across her features. He raised a brow at her mockingly and
added, “I will be returning to Breslein. If Myrrdyn has not found
you by this eve when I return, I will take you back to your own
holding.” With nothing more, he shadowed away.