The Pursuit
Book I of the Chosen Shine Saga
Chapter 1
The Wolves
If there was one way Terrill Jacobs didn’t expect to start that day, it was waking up surrounded by bloodthirsty monsters prepared to kill him.
Yet, awakening from blurry unconsciousness, that was exactly what he saw: a snarling set of fangs drooling over him and red eyes gleaming at him in a wooded clearing. At first, he blinked, unsure if he was hallucinating. Given the beast had very little reaction to his movements, he decided to assume that was the case. After all, by his own memory, there should have been no monsters.
The subsequent growl proved his memory wrong.
“Grrowr…” The trembling, guttural noise that extended through the creature’s paw, to his chest, put all the adrenaline he needed back into his system. Blurriness disappeared, his heartrate spiked, and on immediate instinct, his hand flew to his back to find the blade that was always there...only to find it wasn’t.
“Crap.”
The beast struck, its wolfish fangs snapping for his exposed face. Having nothing but his limbs to serve him, Terrill sent his knee up, colliding with the beast’s soft underbelly and sending it flying. A whimper indicated success, and it was sent across the clearing, rolling as Terrill sprung to his feet.
A quick inspection of his figure told him he wasn’t wounded, at least not from the beast. The added pressure on his knee nearly caused it to buckle from under him, and his memory, the memory he still believed was either lying to him or playing tricks on him, recalled the wound he’d received but a couple hours ago. Terrill hissed, sending his hand to rub the knee, hoping that would help. It didn’t, and only put him in the line of sight of the recovering wolf, back to snarling at him. Terrill’s lips twitched, his other hand moving up to part his hanging brown bangs from his green eyes.
He was near defenseless without his blade. The wolf didn’t care; it charged for him once more.
Lucky for him, the beast was as mindless as they came. Just a garden-variety creature that exuded darkness. It received no commands from its master, and acted in accordance with only its own instincts. Terrill took advantage of that, the beast charging him down with nary a thought but for the desire to tear him limb from limb. He backed up, coming close to a tree, and when the wolf leapt for him, he sidestepped it.
The beast slammed against the tree, sliding down it with another whimper.
Now that it was dazed and distracted, Terrill took a moment to regain his bearings, if he’d ever had them to begin with. The leaves of the autumnal forest around him didn’t look familiar. He had, however, heard the rumors of this place, received from the traders that had come to town. None of that brought him any closer to locating his sword, and with no other weapon on his person, he had one choice.
“Gotta run,” he breathed in low tones. The wolf was close to recovery, so Terrill wasted no more time. Spinning on his heel, he sprinted straight in the opposite direction, diving into the orange and yellow foliage, hoping to get the beast’s scent off him. It did little good. “Thing doesn’t give up...the hell is going on?”
The snarl interceded in his musings, leaving him no time to think while he crashed through the bushes and brambles, skirting the edge of the trees that softly whispered in the wind. For such a peaceful forest, it felt more deadly than it should have.
A log came in Terrill’s path, and he planted a hand on it, vaulting over to continue his flight from the beast. An immediate, hidden log tripped him, sending him into a roll that shot pangs through his knee. He grimaced. Another hiss issued forth from between his teeth, but despite that and the sounds of the growls approaching, he heard something else.
“Water...a river…” He had a new goal. Kicking off in spite of the pain that made him want to scream, Terrill dashed for where he heard the sound. Avoiding the logs, branches and trees in his path, Terrill ran and ran until the trickling water could be heard ever-clearer. The forest was lightening as well, no doubt arriving at a place where the sun could shine all the brighter. That was enough for him, the wolf nipping at his heels. He took the chance to look back, seeing it bound over, lunging for him.
Taking his gamble, Terrill fell, rolling forward and down an embankment. The wolf howled, flying right over his head and hitting a rock in the swiftly flowing river. It cried out in a high-pitched whine and then the river took it away, far from Terrill’s reach.
It was only moments later that he realized he was on an unstoppable path, himself. His body launched up once it hit the edge of the embankment and then crashed into the river, deep enough to be swept up, but shallow enough that he banged his knee.
“Gah!” The exclamation was a mistake, the fresh water flowing into his lungs. His head swam once more, his clothes soaking from his jerkin to his pants. The cold numbness prevented him from acting, and he wondered if this was it, drowning in a stupid river after running from a stupid wolf.
Would be ironic, though...wonder if he died the same way… Terrill wished to scoff at the notion, but had no time for clear thought. The river swept him into its bends, banging against rocks and battering his stocky frame. His eyes were closing, his spluttering beginning to cease.
“Hey! What are you doing there?!” It was his imagination, he knew it. The delirium from drowning had surfaced and now he was imagining someone calling to him. Sounded female, too, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t care if he was.
His body hit another curve, the river reaching its most shallow point. Then there was warmth near his armpits, and a surprising strength lifted him out of the water, on to a patch of grass and dirt. He wasn’t paying much attention, or couldn’t, as some slaps hit his face. It took only a third one for him to roll on his side and cough out water. That rush of liquid burned at his throat, and he wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t vomited.
“Hah…” His groan made whoever had dragged him out step away. Terrill flopped back, his eyes staring at the canopy of colored trees, the ache in his body unrelenting. His eyes were so tired, and he felt so cold, but there were words swirling around the air, questions that were asked. Terrill had no answer for any of them. He wanted to sleep, even if he’d just woken up.
The second after his eyes closed, visions surfaced, holding him captive in their thrall.
The boy with blond hair. The man with scars and dead eyes. The other boy, hair so bright it was white, pleading with him. The King of the Dark.
Terrill’s fists clenched unconsciously. Each memory was a figment, popping behind his closed lids and tormenting him.
The blooming portal, swirling with darkness, and the sensation of being pushed through a vice. Of something inside flowing with a greater ability. He couldn’t make sense of it, though the recollection of whatever had taken place was solidifying to him.
And the woman.
The woman was there, that taunt on her face. That threat.
The threat towards them.
“Atrum! Lumen! Charles!” Terrill snapped upwards, fear quivering through his words before he blinked. No response... Not from them, at least. There was, however, a rustling. In Terrill’s mind, the wolf had returned, but he remembered how unarmed he was. That didn’t stop him from preparing to fight back, and he spun, despite the dizziness. His fist raised.
“Hey! I am not going to hurt you!”
Terrill paused, breath evening out at the, now more obvious, feminine voice. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his adrenaline lowering while he noticed where he was, and that there was someone in front of him. “How...how long was I out?”
“An hour?” the girl answered. Now that Terrill had relaxed, he could take her in. Blonde hair was the first thing he saw, along with clear, gray eyes. She was kneeling towards his level, hardly threatened by his earlier display, head tilted with curiosity. From that angle, Terrill could see the white ribbon holding her hair in a ponytail, and the crystal earrings that adorned her lobes. She was close, too, and Terrill backed up. “Sorry. What were you doing in the river?”
“Uh…” He felt he should have been more articulate, but the girl was...odd. Her clothing, white and red unless his vision was making him colorblind now, looked prepared for traveling, but her attitude belied someone who wasn’t a traveler at all. Not the kind he knew, at least. “Tripped.”
“Seems like a silly thing to do.” He didn’t disagree, but wasn’t about to strike up a conversation with this random girl, no matter what she’d done for him.
“Yeah. Thanks for the help.” He placed his palms on the ground, squelching with its pressure, and began to stand. His body cried out, his knee causing him to collapse.
“You are injured!”
“Figured that out for myself, funnily enough…” She didn’t take offense to his jab at her observational skills, but her cheeks did puff out. “Just need a minute and I can move.”
“No way,” she said. Before he could stop her, the girl had grabbed the hem of his pant leg and began rolling it up until the offending knee was revealed. Even he wanted to recoil from it. The wound he’d taken had become a yellow gash, dried blood and mottled skin surrounding it. He’d been worse off than he’d thought. “Geez, what were you involved in? Some kind of battle?”
“Uh...yeah? Has the news not reached the regencies, yet?”
The girl looked up again, her big eyes close and her head remaining tilted. She looked genuinely unaware, and Terrill wasn’t sure how to read into that. “Are you from Carth?”
“No, from Hart. The town in the center of the continent.”
“Hmm…” She had no response to that, though her fingers touched to his wound. He hissed again, not liking this method of examination...or whatever it was she was doing. “What news are we supposed to have heard?”
“Golbrucht, King of the Dark, is dead. Chosen One Lumen killed him a few hours ago.”
To this, the girl did snap her gaze up. She very readily recognized the name of Golbrucht, and it offered relief to Terrill. He wasn’t as out of it as he thought he was. His body slipped back a bit, his knee almost knocking her in the chin. With a sharp breath, Terrill allowed his body to relax, recalling the events he’d taken part in, though only flashes came to him. His head wasn’t right, not yet, but one fact stood out above all others.
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“Though...his monsters are still here…”
“Yes…” the girl murmured. “Golbrucht is not the end of all monsters, and…he will be back…” Everything the girl said was something he already knew. Her fingers were running themselves over his wound, not even realizing that she was causing his toes to twitch from doing so. “It is only a matter of time…”
“Yeah, but there can be peace in the meantime. No one has to die for a couple months... That’s worth it, in the end.” Whether she agreed or not, he never found out. She stopped what she was doing and looked up. Where he had seen clear eyes before, they were now cloudy, masking some kind of pain or grief. She stood, walking away from him to face the river that she’d dragged him from. He thought to ask her what she was reminiscing on, but opted for a different train of thought, not wishing to dig up the dregs of a past too painful. He was well aware of how that felt. “Though, not knowing that he had been felled... You’re brave, coming out here. What reason did you have to come to the forest? Safety isn’t guaranteed outside the villages…”
“I was looking for a…” the girl stopped whatever she was trying to say, sighing loudly. “I was impatient to go exploring. I enjoy this forest. The eternal autumn from the way the sea currents and other elements interact with it. Nothing else. I’ve tried to explore it once a week. Guess I didn’t want to wait for Golbrucht to be dead.”
“Dangerous, though? I nearly got torn limb from limb by a killer wolf.” She laughed, brushing her ponytail back and forth in nervous distraction. It was Terrill’s turn to be amused at her apparent enjoyment of the conversation, and he began to realize he was doing exactly what he hadn’t wanted to do.
“Really? Guy like you? Seem like you could take about a hundred wolves,” she expressed. Her eyes were back to normal, living in the joy of the moment while she bent back down to his level. She winked at him. “Then again, I did pull you from the river.”
“Hey, if I had my sword, I’d have made short work of it. I train every day for that kind of thing!”
“Sword, you say? Could have sworn one came flying at me from the sky on the other side of the river.” Terrill immediately tried to stand when she said that, but his knee remained the bane of his existence, causing him to fall back down. “Whoa, I hope you’re not planning on running over there right away. Not on that knee.”
“What else am I supposed to do? Leave it there and hope some bandit doesn’t pick it up? I couldn’t do that to my mom and dad.” He tried to stand once more, but this time the girl was firm, pushing a hand on his chest and making sure he remained seated. Her lips were a thin, stern line that made him swallow a second time since meeting. “I’m defenseless without it, too.”
“Doesn’t mean you need to run off. But I guess I can give you a freebie to help you out, River Man.” She gave another wink, and then put her hands back on his knee. He tilted his head, wondering exactly what she was going to do. She didn’t have any other tools on hand besides a bag, and certainly nothing that could help with the pulsing gash upon his knee.
It turned out that she didn’t need it.
There was a small, but burgeoning, glow coming from her hands. Terrill’s breath caught, becoming shallow as the warm light eclipsed the damage that had been dealt to him. Like watching an expert seamstress at work, his knee was stitched up until all that remained was its waterlogged, blood-encrusted look. The damage, itself, was gone.
“What’s with that look? Never seen magic before?”
That hadn’t been it. Not at all. Yet he didn’t dare say anything to confirm or deny the misconception. He just took one of his hands and touched to where the damage had once been. It didn’t hurt, even if his body still ached. Terrill snapped his gaze up, finding the girl now standing and stretching. “I… Thanks, uh…”
“Krysta.” The girl finished her stretches and spun around to throw a dazzling smile his way. “Just Krysta. And no need for the thanks. Not every day I find a man in the river. You’re entertaining.”
“Thanks, I guess…” Deciding to test his knee, Terrill stood, and to his surprise found no complications. He, too, began to stretch, staring out over the river. “You said somewhere on the other side, right?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Well, you take care of yourself. Seems there’s still some monsters around.” He offered nothing but a wave. She may have blinked and stared after him, but he didn’t know or care. His thanks had been given and she seemed perfectly capable of taking care of herself, even within the woods.
Feeling better than he had since that morning, Terrill used the energy he had to leap over to a rock splitting the river and then over to the other bank. When he looked back, Krysta was bending low, examining...something. She was weird enough to him that it didn’t faze him, and he certainly didn’t want to be around that power again. It was strange enough to know it existed at all in a random stranger off the road.
Shaking the disturbance from his mind, Terrill began his trek through the leaves of the forest, each tree rustling with some animal or other movement. Krysta hadn’t confirmed where she’d seen the sword, but he had to believe it couldn’t have been far. In order to make sure he didn’t lose a single thing, Terrill kept his gaze flitting between the canopy above and the leaf-strewn path below.
All became silent, leaving him in his thoughts, and helping him to realize his clothes were still drenched, dripping with a pitter-patter on the ground. He pulled to a stop near a copse of trees before another clearing, and leaned against a trunk. He was alone.
Where did the others get sent to…? It was a question that hovered in the back of his mind since he’d awoken. His nails dug into his jerkin, twisting at the material. Brain still jumbled, Terrill tried to recall what had gone down in the battle. He could remember the wound to his knee, and that blast of darkness that felt like it sent him flying. Yet for the life of him, everything had been so chaotic that other details were lost.
Terrill sighed, banging his head backwards against the tree, and sending leaves scattering down upon him. Coughing from the foliage lodging itself in his hair, he pushed off and made to wrap around the tree, finding a small, babbling brook on the other side, and with it, a glint that was far from foreign.
Crashing about, Terrill ran to the small stream, and from its shallow depths, pulled the object of his search.
It was a blade, old and weathered, but loyal. Crafted by the blacksmith in Hart for the purpose of war, found on the battlefield and delivered to him. He took pride in it, scabbard and all, grateful that blade and master had been reunited. Now, he no longer felt naked.
With a simple movement, he tied the blade, its buckle snapping across his midsection, leaving his sword sheathed on his back. As he finished tightening, something else caught his eye, gleaming from within the water. This, too, was familiar, and Terrill came close until he could bend and dig it out from within the mud.
“The Royal Crest…” He knew it, had seen his friend receive it from the king, himself, all for the battle. Now, it had found its way here, just as his sword did. A flame of hope sparked inside. “Lumen! Are you there?! Lumen!”
Although Terrill had hoped for an answer, he received none but the silence of the forest.
His fingers curled around the crest, looking as shiny as when they’d departed with it. He had been flung here. His sword had landed here. The crest had landed here. Where, then, were his companions? Surely, they were somewhere in the forest.
They’re not here. They’re not in the forest.
“Who said that?!” Terrill ripped his sword out, brandishing it in the canopied light. He felt no presence, but the whisper sounded like one he knew. Hands gripped tighter, and he wondered, for a maddening moment, if it had been her: the woman. His lips turned up in a snarl. A flash of Lumen, flying at the woman, disappearing with her, appeared to him. He lowered his blade a little. Whatever the voice was, it was telling the truth.
Seek lands beyond, and you’ll find them. You must…
Terrill’s eyes sharpened. The voice cut itself off, its mysterious whispers fading as threat rose in the air. It was like her voice had attracted it, a forbidden sort of power that called through the land, itself. Terrill scoffed.
He should have known. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard such things. Nor was it the first time he’d questioned if he was going mad.
It was also far from the first time such a call had attracted dangerous creatures, either.
To little surprise, the growl crescendoed, the padding on the leaves mingling with it. Terrill spun his blade in his hands, turning his body to the source of sound, and with a swift movement, he sliced straight at the rampaging wolf that had found its way back to him.
The beast couldn’t even register shock before it dissipated into smoky tendrils, the ashes falling upon the leafy path. It felt good to have his blade back.
Just as Terrill was about to sheathe his sword, something else dwelled within his instincts. The beast hadn’t been alone. The earth was telling him that, as it had always communicated with him. It had been part of a pack, and had not been the one he’d encountered earlier. No, that one was elsewhere, with all the friends it had called...and it was driven into a frenzy.
“That girl…”
He didn’t hesitate to act. Terrill’s feet shuffled upon the grass, beating a path back the way he came, listening for that sound of the river in the distance. It came closer, and with it were other sounds, and a bright flash of light that could eclipse even the sun.
He recalled Krysta’s words that she could handle herself, and she was certainly putting up a fight. Terrill knew it, but his feet wouldn’t stop, bounding over the river with alacrity until he rolled back on the other side and looked to the site of battle.
“Krysta!” Terrill called. The girl, on one knee and panting with exhaustion, looked back. Her eye was closed, but the smile that began to stretch her lips let him know he was welcome for the help. Three piles of ash were around her, the leaves and dirt disturbed, but another wolf, the one he’d seen earlier, was stalking closer. He, too, put his foot down, and it drew the attention of the creature. “Need some help?”
“Ah, yeah, guess so.” She didn’t say any more, and Terrill didn’t need it. He’d no idea whether it was the wolves or her act of healing him that had put her in that state, but there was no changing his mind on what he needed to do. Terrill stepped between the girl and the snarling beast. “Didn’t think you would come back, the way you ran off.”
“I’m not going to leave someone who helped me to die. I don’t leave anyone to die,” Terrill proclaimed. His sword came forward, splitting the air as he pointed it to the creature. The wolf sensed the threat, growling, but refusing to back down from the prey it had found. “That’s my creed. Hear that, beast. You want at her, you go through me.”
“Grrrrrow!”
“Be careful. It is tougher than it looks,” Krysta said. She was standing, but just barely, and she was clasping to her shoulder. “I blasted it with some spells and it kept going. I do not know how much a sword will-”
“Don’t worry...I have more than one blade. Just...keep it a secret, all right?”
“What? Why?”
Terrill didn’t answer. He had no time to. The beast was charging, its red eyes swirling around like a demonic horde that blended with all the leaves. Terrill shifted his stance, holding his blade aloft.
The wolf jumped, and Terrill swung. Claws met steel, sending a sudden raining of ineffectual sparks to the dead leaves. The wolf tried to bite at Terrill, but with a heave, he sent the creature into one of the tree trunks. Unlike before, its desperation was evident, landing on the trunk with all four paws and pouncing on him again.
This time, Terrill stabbed forward, straight for the exposed belly of the beast. Its red eyes flashed, and Terrill knew before making contact that the blade wouldn’t work as it did on its brethren. The tip of his sword glanced off the hardened fur that bristled on its stomach. It would take more force than a simple thrust to defeat this thing.
“I told you, a sword will not kill it. My own did nothing.” Terrill confirmed the presence of a rapier, discarded at her side amidst the ashes. He smirked at that while the wolf jumped back. It sensed danger. Krysta did, too, because her hair looked to stand on end.
“I told you. I have a second blade.” Terrill stomped, feeling the earth beneath his feet. It spoke to him, all its tendrils coming to him, bending to his will; like the very life of the earth itself could commune with his blade. The trees quivered, all their branches shaking, and the wolf twisted back and forth. Krysta fell back, eyes wide.
“You’re...you…” She was inarticulate, and Terrill knew: even with her own power, she hadn’t seen this before. “How…?”
“GRRRRAR!” The wolf was in full-on survival mode, its desperation causing it to make a final lunge. Terrill held his ground.
His sword dipped downward, near his feet, its tip collecting those little earth-points, feeling them all. He took another step, just as the beast came towards its final moments.
And Terrill swung his blade upward, pulling with it a great spire of earth.
The wolf could not stop, and before it registered that it was well and truly doomed, the spire of earth split the ground and drove itself through the creature, its sharp edge rending it in two. The ground cracked and fractured, creating a fissure running a few feet wide, from which Terrill stepped back. He stared the beast in the eyes, and with a single, defeated look, the wolf dissipated into nothing.
Terrill sighed out, spinning his blade around and sheathing it before he turned back to Krysta.
“Earth Magic... That is…” She was flummoxed, running her hands through her hair, leaving her weapon abandoned. “I haven’t seen that, of that strength, since... I was not aware it was…”
“Just a trick I’ve known for years. Don’t really know since when,” Terrill laughed out, trying to lighten the mood. Krysta was still shaking her head, but eventually calmed down enough to look up at him, her head tilted, and her lips grave. He tilted his own in reaction. “Something wrong?”
“You... Not ten minutes ago you needed me to pull you out of the river, and said you needed a sword to fight back. But now you just jumped right in and used Earth Magic that split the earth itself. How? Why? Why not before?”
“Can’t use it without my sword.”
“Who are you?”
It was the only question Krysta had asked which he had an easy answer to. None of the others mattered. So, he looked her in the eyes and answered her with a grin.
“I’m Terrill Jacobs the Earth-Splitter, and I’m the youngest Guardian there is.”