Falcon's Fic: The Path Untrod (Chapter Four)
Fandom: The Saga of Darren Shan
Title: The Path Untrod
Author: Falcon Whitaker
Pairing: References to Vancha March/Alice Burgess in Chapter One; references to Darren Shan/Debbie Hemlock in several places.
Rating & Warnings: Rated 15+ for strong, bloody violence and torture.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Saga of Darren Shan or any of the associated characters. I do not profit.
Feedback/Concrit Welcome?: Very much so.
Summary: As long as he does not change the course to the present, Desmond Tiny can do anything. And sometimes he can do more. Sometimes he can bend the path untrod.
Spoiler Warning! Do not read until you have finished The Saga! Major spoilers within!
~~~~~
Previous Chapters
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
~~~~~
Chapter Four
Darius Shan feels it.
He is passing by the Hall of Princes when he hears Uncle Darren's scream and comes running. Stumbling, almost falling over his own feet, he throws himself through the door, followed by two Generals - his personal guard. Uncle Darren is kneeling in the middle of the Hall, his face a mask of tears and blood.
"Uncle Darren," he gasps. Then he shouts, "Uncle Darren!"
And Darius rushes across the room, almost slips on the bloody floor, slows down, and stops before his uncle. He pauses for a moment, then reaches out a hand and rests it on Darren's shoulder. He's the Cub Prince: he's no sentimental fool. Not even the fact that he is now closer to his uncle than even to his mother could make him that.
"What happened, uncle? Are you alright?"
Then he sees the bodies. Vancha March, torn open, guts hanging out and his heart two feet away from him. Arrow, his face crusted with blood, both of his eyes torn and ruined. And Mika Ver Leth, who no longer resembled anything akin to a vampire.
Darius releases Uncle Darren's shoulder, hand bloodied from the wound he had not seen, and he stares in horror at the carnage surrounding them. The stench of blood is frightful, sickening. The Generals - mature, hardened vampires, accustomed to killing and death - both pale. One of them, the younger, gags and runs from the room; Darius can hear him vomiting outside.
Part of him wants to flee too, to vomit until the memory of that place is purged, but he is stronger than that. He is the Cub Prince.
"What happened?" he whispers.
Darren wipes a hand across his eyes, smearing the blood across his face.
"It was... it was Mika," he chokes. "I couldn't stop him, I couldn't stop... He kill... Charna's guts, he gutted Vancha."
He voice cracks. Darius bites his lip, gaze settling on Vancha's corpse. The lilac-grey coils of intestine trailing limply on the ground are steaming slightly, still warm, and he almost fancies that he can see that abandoned, desecrated heart beating. A warm trickle runs down Darius's chin and he realises that his lip is bleeding.
Darren gasps for air, steadies himself.
"He... he took my knife, threw it at Arrow, took out one of his eyes, and then... he... his bare hands, right through Arrow's eye, I couldn't stop him."
Darius glances over at Arrow's corpse then away from the red-filled eye sockets and the empty expression.
"I tried so hard..." Darren sobs. "Just look what the humans did to him, what he did to himself."
Darius can't help himself. The Cub Prince he may be, but not even the Cub Prince is heartless. He throws his arms around his uncle and hugs him close, refusing to look at the near-skinless, bloody lump of meat that used to be Mika Ver Leth.
"It's alright, Uncle Darren," he says, voice wobbling slightly, beyond his control. "You stopped him. He won't hurt anybody else. It's just you and me, now, Uncle Darren. Just you and me."
Darren lets out another sob, hugs him tight, then lets him go. Darius can see how hard his uncle's features have become, hard and cold. Suppressing his pain. Burying it deep inside himself. Putting on a brave face for the others.
The General with the stronger stomach barks an order to his partner, whom Darius can hear running for help. Although what help they could give now is anybody's guess.
Darren laughs softly.
"Just you and me, Darius. Just you and me."
His laughter gets louder and louder, an insane cackle that sounds more like Steve Leonard than Darren Shan. And Darius looks down, down at the blood on his left hand, his uncle's blood, and he starts to laugh too, until his throat hurts...
... and he wakes up and starts to cry. Annie, his mother, climbs out of her bed and scoops him up out of his crib, holding him close. She smells of milk and warm blankets and comfort; he is soon soothed, and the nightmare is soon forgotten in the lost labyrinths of babyhood.
Title: The Path Untrod
Author: Falcon Whitaker
Pairing: References to Vancha March/Alice Burgess in Chapter One; references to Darren Shan/Debbie Hemlock in several places.
Rating & Warnings: Rated 15+ for strong, bloody violence and torture.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Saga of Darren Shan or any of the associated characters. I do not profit.
Feedback/Concrit Welcome?: Very much so.
Summary: As long as he does not change the course to the present, Desmond Tiny can do anything. And sometimes he can do more. Sometimes he can bend the path untrod.
Spoiler Warning! Do not read until you have finished The Saga! Major spoilers within!
~~~~~
Previous Chapters
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
~~~~~
Chapter Four
Darius Shan feels it.
He is passing by the Hall of Princes when he hears Uncle Darren's scream and comes running. Stumbling, almost falling over his own feet, he throws himself through the door, followed by two Generals - his personal guard. Uncle Darren is kneeling in the middle of the Hall, his face a mask of tears and blood.
"Uncle Darren," he gasps. Then he shouts, "Uncle Darren!"
And Darius rushes across the room, almost slips on the bloody floor, slows down, and stops before his uncle. He pauses for a moment, then reaches out a hand and rests it on Darren's shoulder. He's the Cub Prince: he's no sentimental fool. Not even the fact that he is now closer to his uncle than even to his mother could make him that.
"What happened, uncle? Are you alright?"
Then he sees the bodies. Vancha March, torn open, guts hanging out and his heart two feet away from him. Arrow, his face crusted with blood, both of his eyes torn and ruined. And Mika Ver Leth, who no longer resembled anything akin to a vampire.
Darius releases Uncle Darren's shoulder, hand bloodied from the wound he had not seen, and he stares in horror at the carnage surrounding them. The stench of blood is frightful, sickening. The Generals - mature, hardened vampires, accustomed to killing and death - both pale. One of them, the younger, gags and runs from the room; Darius can hear him vomiting outside.
Part of him wants to flee too, to vomit until the memory of that place is purged, but he is stronger than that. He is the Cub Prince.
"What happened?" he whispers.
Darren wipes a hand across his eyes, smearing the blood across his face.
"It was... it was Mika," he chokes. "I couldn't stop him, I couldn't stop... He kill... Charna's guts, he gutted Vancha."
He voice cracks. Darius bites his lip, gaze settling on Vancha's corpse. The lilac-grey coils of intestine trailing limply on the ground are steaming slightly, still warm, and he almost fancies that he can see that abandoned, desecrated heart beating. A warm trickle runs down Darius's chin and he realises that his lip is bleeding.
Darren gasps for air, steadies himself.
"He... he took my knife, threw it at Arrow, took out one of his eyes, and then... he... his bare hands, right through Arrow's eye, I couldn't stop him."
Darius glances over at Arrow's corpse then away from the red-filled eye sockets and the empty expression.
"I tried so hard..." Darren sobs. "Just look what the humans did to him, what he did to himself."
Darius can't help himself. The Cub Prince he may be, but not even the Cub Prince is heartless. He throws his arms around his uncle and hugs him close, refusing to look at the near-skinless, bloody lump of meat that used to be Mika Ver Leth.
"It's alright, Uncle Darren," he says, voice wobbling slightly, beyond his control. "You stopped him. He won't hurt anybody else. It's just you and me, now, Uncle Darren. Just you and me."
Darren lets out another sob, hugs him tight, then lets him go. Darius can see how hard his uncle's features have become, hard and cold. Suppressing his pain. Burying it deep inside himself. Putting on a brave face for the others.
The General with the stronger stomach barks an order to his partner, whom Darius can hear running for help. Although what help they could give now is anybody's guess.
Darren laughs softly.
"Just you and me, Darius. Just you and me."
His laughter gets louder and louder, an insane cackle that sounds more like Steve Leonard than Darren Shan. And Darius looks down, down at the blood on his left hand, his uncle's blood, and he starts to laugh too, until his throat hurts...
... and he wakes up and starts to cry. Annie, his mother, climbs out of her bed and scoops him up out of his crib, holding him close. She smells of milk and warm blankets and comfort; he is soon soothed, and the nightmare is soon forgotten in the lost labyrinths of babyhood.