SALIGIA Prologue
Jun 21st, 2005
The dark trees swayed menacingly around the clearing, tall and foreboding, they groaned and creaked their displeasure. He did not belong, the stranger in their midst was too far detached from nature. The boy sat perched in the middle of the clearing, the soft grass swaying around him, almost obscuring him from view of the trees, not that it will matter. He raised his head to stare at the full moon now directly above him, glaring down at him with its cold light, almost as if it was the very eyes of those that pursued him. The light streamed past his dark hair, glinting of the delicate blade that sat in his lap.
And he waited.
The distant sounds of fighting had stopped about an hour ago. Soon, very soon, he would learn the results of the battle, either by a herald of his own family, or by the cold glint of bloodies claws in the moonlight, preparing to enact their final vengeance.
A small hare darted out of the undergrowth, sprinting past him with nothing but blind panic, following came the distinct coppery scent that he had been dreading. There was no trace of his pack in that odour.
The moonlight seemed to flare as the boy resignedly lowered his head, staring at the small locket that was sitting open in the palm of his gloved hand. He snapped it shut and thrust it in his pocket. The leather of his clothing creaked as he readjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword, shifting his balance to the balls of his feet as he prepared for the inevitable.
The wet sound of ragged breathing penetrated the darkened tree line and a pair of eyes met those of the boy. The eyes were stained as red as the fur around the slowly emerging paws.
The boy said nothing as the creature paced towards him, its sleek body was destructively beautiful in the moonlight, the shine of the congealing blood that covered its coat made the ghastly image even more surreal.
As the two continued to stare at each other, the boy noted two others emerging from the tree line, their glowing blue eyes reflected his own, their humanoid features twisted by a combination of fear and bloodlust. The three beasts stalked towards the lone boy, sitting about 10 metres away in the centre of the unnaturally round clearing.
The closer they got, the steadier his breathing, the calmer his heart. Once again he readjusted his grip on the hilt, the training that he had undergone as a child barely registered, his assessment of the situation and the action he had to undertake was now instinctual.
The first beast, the creature with eyes of burning despair now stood 5 metres directly in front of the boy, its mouth open in a feral snarl, thick blood sluiced of its huge fangs as a low growl reverberated through the clearing.
The boy tensed.
The beasts pounced.
A howl rang through the forest with sickening clarity, silencing all animals in its wake for several hundred miles.
*****
Present day
The sun slowly dipped below the horizon, the burnished glow of its fading light was enough to see the air still shimmering with the desert heat. The land was barren for miles around the cross roads, the only feature was a dull street lamp that flickered ominously.
As the sun continued to fall, and the moon began to rise, the only movement was that of the occasional rabbit foraging for food. But none would dare enter the pale circle of light cast by the lamp directly on the crossroads.
As the moon climbed gradually higher, the air seemed to still, the residue heat of the desert night suddenly dispersed, replaced with an icy chill that seeps into every crevice it can find. The circle of light surrounding the crossroads flared with an eerie brilliance once the moon had reached its peak.
A tall figure melted from the shadows, regarding the circle of light. Turning, the figure began to move, a trail of salt followed its steps, forming a perfect circle around the light, before the figure crossed quickly several times until the pentagram was complete. Finally taking its place in the centre, the creature raised its head to the sky and threw its arms out wide.
A guttural language swirled around the crossroads, rising in pitch and severity in a whirlwind of deafening sound, the pentagram of salt blazed white as strange runes began to form around the shape. When the ritual reached its pinnacle, the light flared again before concentrating itself in the five points of the pentagram. The cloaked figure strode out of the pentagram as the 5 points of light swirled around each other, building in intensity as they grew closer.
The second the lights touched each other, the light flooded with blood red energy, pulsing as if with anger as it began to expand outwards again, forming a pentagon frame of red light surrounding an inky blackness from which malice and evil seemed to pour forth.
The figure stood silently, now watching as the portal completely forms and movements began to disturb the surface of the dark barrier. Slowly, eight beings emerged from the portal. The first two came together, their hands clasped together tightly. These two were the only ones with a discernible gender, male and female; they were beautiful far beyond that of any human and their eyes burned with a strange passion. The others to emerge were of a more grotesque and genderless nature, each one taking its place before the dark figure who stood motionless outside the circle.
The last figure to emerge was featureless, its skin was pitch black and as it came forth the barrier behind it followed, the portal collapsing at the loss. The sudden loss of the blazing red light left the clearing bathed in the cold, emotionless light of the moon.
Wordless, the cloaked figure stepped forward, the 8 beings watched it with complete attention as it very deliberately reached forward and broke the circle of salt with its foot. The creatures shared a brief moment of confusion before focussing on the hooded face that they could not see. They still dare not move. The 8 of them combined were a formidable match to any supernatural being, but they could sense something beneath the hood, a dark malice that they knew could crush them. They kept their peace.
“You have been freed” the figure spoke suddenly, her voice was laced with danger and rang out clear through the desert night “with a few conditions.”
“I shall give you the means to summon your master” at this the creatures were visibly shaken, looking at the being in front of them with a mix of awe and suspicion, all except the eighth one, who remained an impassive blot of darkness.
“I have only one target for you,” the cloaked woman continued “and I want no expenses to be spared, I want you to use the full array of your talents for this task.”
The woman slowly looked into the face of each creature before her, lingering on the eighth, before continuing on, her voice betraying a smile.
“Beacon Hills.”
*****
Erica could hear the wild thud of Boyd’s heart. She could smell the acrid stench of his fear mixed in with her own. And she could smell the other wolves’ emotions. The hatred emanating from some of the alphas was only overwhelmed by sheer joy that comes from the hunt.
As the alphas circled them, the smell of joy became overwhelming, and also coming from one wolf in particular the smell of arousal. Erica cringed at the resultant thoughts of that particular smell. She stood back-to-back with Boyd and they both released as menacing a growl as they could muster.
A large wolf who had been withdrawn towards the back of the pack released what sounded suspiciously like a laugh, pacing slowly towards the terrified betas.
Slowly the beast raised itself up on its haunches, stretching to its full height it towered over Erica and Boyd. And then, in a gravelly voice, the alpha spoke.
“You two, are going to deliver a message to your alpha for me.”
For a brief second Erica allowed herself to feel relieved, but then the wolf raised its taloned hands menacingly over Boyd.
“NO!” Erica’s scream echoed through the forest, followed by hysterical sobbing, cursing and wailing.
And then there was silence.
[Chapter 1]