Darkness: Chapter 22 - Victim

He tip toed to the edge of the tunnel, the sounds of thunder and the roar of his father’s anger echoed out from the chamber beyond. He had felt the shake of the earth, heard the sound of the storm within. There was a battle, and he had to see.

Father will win. He always wins. He has to win. Whoever it is.

It was only his thirteenth year but he knew two things for certain. Dark shamans are powerful, and as long as he was with his father he would be safe.

Leaning forward he held his breath and peaked around the corner, the vivid dance of light and shadows was everywhere, especially so within. And there he stood, his father, in all his glory. His heart swelled with pride seeing him unleash his full might.

He can never lose!

Lighting leapt from his fingers, fire spat from his palms. The earth at the edges of the chamber jutted and spiked as it tried to skewer a shadow that danced and ran across them, elusive and swift. He could not even begin to guess what it was, but it was certainly the focus of his wrath.

Get closer, maybe you can call to father, tell him where it is.

He crept forward, ducking behind a boulder near the entrance. Peeking over it he narrowed his eyes, trying to focus upon that shadowy devil. He could not see it, fathers lightning was keeping it at bay, running and moving. It would not sit still long enough for him to deliver a blow.

Shadows whirled, as light made them dance and whirl. A wave of frost wailed over his head, another moment a bolt of lightning. He was safe behind the rock, but father didn’t know he was there.

Then he heard it, the skitter and patter of bare feet running on stone. The whirl of air as a body ran past him, behind the boulder. It had given him no heed and ran on, past...

Tell him!

He leapt up, pointing in the direction from whence it came, a shadow the size of an Orc with its back turned was strafing away with a sword in hand.

”Fath-“ Then it struck him, like an earthquake. He flew backwards as his eyes were blinded with dazzling light, and his body overwhelmed with agony. His back propelled backwards his back struck the wall, but the pain of impact paled to that in his side, it burned as if a fire was within him, his muscles convulsing with energy.

Father?

”S-son...? came a whispered voice. His body limply slipped down the wall until it came to a halt, his body paralyzed. He could feel only agony, smell the burning of his own flesh and even see the smoke it created. His gaze shifted, he could see his father, totem in hand looking horror struck, overwhelmed by his misplaced attack.

”my son, m-my son... I-...” He stuttered, taking a step forward to come his aid but was cut short. A shadow came up to his back, and a limb struck down hard upon his neck. With a bewildered cough he stumbled while his totem fell from his limp hand, then fell forward on his chest, unconscious.

N-no... he can’t...

Pain jolted up his side, down his leg. The burns burned, the pain was intolerable, his lungs felt as if they flooded with blood. He began to cough crimson, averting his eyes from his father defeat.

Tears weld in his eyes. He didn’t have the warrior resolve of the others, he was just a child at heart still. He didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to see his father die. Ragged gasps of pain and sadness escaped him...

”what is your name, youngling?” whispered a voice. It was hoarse, as if dry, slow with exhaustion. But also sad with regret.

Varanak turned his gaze again, the pain almost forbidding him . Above him hovered that shadow, shrouded and grey. All but the eyes, they were green, narrowed but not in wrath.

please... please...

”Mercy... please... mercy...” he uttered, pleading.

The shadow tilted its head, looking him up and down, sniffing the air and its flesh charred scent. It nodded.

”Mercy.” it answered.

Before he could react or even consider, it whipped around his right hand and plunged a pointed edge downward. He gasped, all the air in his lungs froze as bone crunched around it. The shadow had slipped his sword clean through his chest. His heart pressed against the flat cold surface, its beats slowing to that final point...

Mercy...