A mysterious, cloaked man dashed through paved alleys, between tall buildings and around corners. Sweat poured down his face, washed away by thunderous rain. It was late at night. Dark figures were closing in on him from behind. There were two, maybe three of them. He could sense it. The thumping echoes which ricocheted around the ally were getting louder. There was no time to confirm it or face them. Where he was going, what he had to do, was far too important. As he came up to another corner he heard the splashing footsteps of one directly behind him. He felt water fleck against his legs and then the next moment a cold, dark hand closed around his left arm. A blinding flash of red light illuminated the alley as he struck the figure with his free arm, rounding the corner. He struck the figure with his free arm while rounding the corner, forcing them off with all his strength, sending them soaring into the darkness. The blow he dealt created a shockwave which caused the figure to crash into the brick wall behind him and slump to the ground. His twisting motion swept his hood away from his face. He couldn’t turn back. He had to keep moving, that was all that mattered. For several minutes he forced himself to sprint through the maze of alleys, not allowing himself a moment to look back. Finally, he found the edge of a semi lit road. He slumped his sodden back against the sidewalk wall, slightly under the cover of an overhanging roof. Taking a moment he caught sight of his own reflection in a moonlit puddle on the rough pavement. The image was distorted by stray rain drops but the man appeared to be in his 50’s, with a short stubble beard and long, grey-black hair reaching his shoulders. He was also quite tall, over 6 feet. He forced air into his lungs while surveying his surroundings. The rain had soaked through to his skin- he began to shiver beneath the weight of his water soaked clothes from the ferocious weather billowing against him. It seemed he had managed to lose the group of dark figures, but for how long he couldn't say. There was no time to slow down. With every second he wasted his chances of success wilted. He squinted through the torrential downpour. In the flashes of booming lightning he was able to make out a street sign.
He focused on the sign and recognised the capital white letters printed across it. “Only two blocks away,” he thought to himself. He refitted his hood to shield his face from the blistering, windswept rain.With one last steadying breath he pushed himself away from the rough brick wall and continued his journey, now moving at a light run, his boots squelching with each step. He was on edge. Every subtle movement in the shadows reminded him of the peril that followed, and the danger that lay ahead. Fortunately he made it the two blocks down without encountering more than a stray cat cowering undercover, and the glowing yellow headlights of a passing car. He rushed towards his destination, now firmly within reach.
“Building 7, room 23. Building 7, room 23,” he repeated in his mind, counting the building numbers as he ran. “Number 3. Number 5. Number 7!” He’d found it. He walked up the stone steps to the glass doors and pushed down on the handle, but it barely budged an inch. The door was locked. Not interested in wasting time he forced the handle down, breaking the lock. The door swung inwards, pushed by invisible hands. The room he walked into held a warm, welcoming air. It was only barely lit by lamps left on during the night. He shut the door behind him as a shield to the outside cold, then placed his right hand on his chest. A warm energy pulsed out from his hand, entering his dripping clothes and instantly drying them. He slid back his hood. The reception was empty except for a janitor on the opposite end of the room, vacuuming the checkered carpets. The janitor had his back turned, paying no attention to the peculiar sight which had just strode through the door.
His eyes finally located the source of his urgency. On the right wall, above a door, there was a green sign marked with a white illustration of stairs. With a quick backward glance out the windowed doors to ensure the figures hadn’t caught up, he powered toward the stair marked door. The carpet was soft and bounced beneath his feet. He followed the concrete stairs up to the second level, leaving a stain of water soaked carpet by the front entrance. The stairwell was lit bright white. He slowly pushed open the door for the second floor corridor. The room was dimly lit by more lamps mounted along the walls. White from the stairwell seeped in through the crack of the door. He scanned up and down the hallway. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Allowing the door to clamp shut behind him, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the darker setting. He continued down the hall, locating a door with a metal ‘3’ nailed into it, just below his eye level. He knocked purposefully three times with a gloved fist, the dull thuds ringing through the hall. He took a step back, head flicking left to right for signs of danger. His breathing was now under control. Moments later a man opened the door marked ‘3’ with a look of mild surprise.
“Hello,” the man said quizzically, after opening the door. He was in his mid-thirties, light brown hair, wearing grey sweatpants and a dark hoodie. He placed one hand on the paint chipped, wooden door frame. “Can I help you?”
The cloaked man pushed past his arm entering the apartment, closing and bolting the door behind him.
“Woah, hey! What the hell are you doing?” the man exclaimed angrily.
Spinning around to face the room the cloaked man noticed it was set up as a living room/kitchen. There was a couch and tv on the left and a dining table in the far right corner on wood flooring, with a tiled kitchen to his immediate right. The back wall was arrayed with a line of large windows, the view outside obscured by a tall office building across the street.
“There’s no time to explain,” the cloaked man said, taking several strides into the room, straining his head around wildly. He moved with surprising speed and stealth for a man of his size. Stopping near the windows, he turned back to the man who opened the door. “Your wife, where is she?”
At that moment a woman entered the room from a doorway next to the kitchen, looking scared. Her eyes were a magnificent deep blue and a mark crossed vertically over the left eye, as though an ancient wound had healed over. She was also in her mid-thirties wearing black sweatpants and a white t-shirt, her hair long, straight and black. Neither were wearing shoes. She caught sight of the stranger by the window and turned to her husband. “Honey, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly.
Before her husband could answer the cloaked man spoke, eyes locked directly on the woman’s face, taking steps towards her. “Look, I’m sorry to do this but there are people coming for you. Right now. We have to leave immediately.”
The woman backed up a little staring wide eyed and open mouthed from the cloaked man, to her husband, and back again.
The husband stepped forward placing himself between his wife and the cloaked man by the windows. “Listen buddy, I don’t know who you are but if you don’t leave our apartment I’ll have to call the poli-''
Before he could finish his sentence the husband was cut off by a great crashing sound of shattering glass followed by a dark figure bursting through the window. It was one of the figures the cloaked man had escaped from and, judging by a mangled arm and tattered clothes, it was the one he threw into the wall. The woman screamed and her husband, knocked back by the blast, stumbled, falling into the center of the room. A moment later two more figures burst in following the first. They looked like men, but were horribly disfigured, all soaked by the rain that continued to lash down. The first two figures had cracked black skin and dark milky eyes. The third figure however had white skin but the same dead eyes. The three of them were hunched over making them about a foot shorter than the cloaked man. The white skinned figure seemed to be in charge. It croaked in a high pitched husky voice, “Kill the girl, he only wants the girl.''
The first one with the mangled arm rushed towards her. At the same time the cloaked man outstretched his hand towards the rushing figure. In an instant the figure erupted into brilliant orange flames and exploded into dust and ash, scorching the floor and ceiling. The woman dove out of sight behind the kitchen counter. The cloaked man rounded on the two remaining figures, withdrawing a long, bright silver sword with a golden hilt. The second black figure was pushed towards the cloaked man by the white and began wildly swinging a small blade. The cloaked man ducked under a poorly aimed swing, bringing his sword up in one fluid motion, splitting the figure in half at the waist. It collapsed, dissolving into two piles of black ash and smoke. The remaining white figure had begun scurrying across the room towards the woman crouched on the floor. The cloaked man rushed after it, reached out, grabbed the white figure and threw him backwards towards the piles of ash left by its predecessor. The figure rose to its feet and moved into a fighting stance. It was crouched slightly, holding its blade in front of itself with its right hand. The cloaked man swung his sword to his right with immense force across the figures outstretched hand, sending its blade soaring out the smashed window. The force was so great it caused the figure to stumble sideways with the swing. With precise bounds forwards, the cloaked man closed the distance. The figure turned back to face him, unarmed. The cloaked man shot his left hand forward, tightly gripping the figure's throat. The cloaked man's blue eyes shone with a glint of red. In the next instant, the white figure transformed to ice, then crumbled to the ground. The cloaked man's glove was stained white from gripping the figures throat. He wiped the crusty residue off on his leg.
The fight ended as quickly as it started. The cloaked man rushed forward and leaned his head out through the broken window, in search for signs of more, his boots crunching on broken glass as he marched. Satisfied they were alone he turned to the couple who were trying to compose themselves.
“Are you both okay?”
The woman was shaking, crouched down, eyes shut tight. The husband had moved across the room, placing his arms around her shoulder.
“We’re fine,” the husband said. Then, as an afterthought, added: “Thanks.” His face was peppered with small lacerations caused by the explosion of glass.
“More will be coming, we need to go.” The cloaked man said, sheathing his sword by his side.
“No!” the husband spluttered. “First you need to tell us what the fuck is going on. What were those things? Who even are you?”
The cloaked man sighed deeply and forced into a rushed explanation. “My name is Alarik. Those creatures that just tried to kill you are soldiers, created by a very bad, very dangerous man. This man is on his way here as we speak. I promise I will explain everything once we’re somewhere safe.” Observing the woman closer he spoke again to the husband, now with a soft but firm tone. “Can she move?”
The woman managed a nod, opened her eyes and slowly got to her feet, with assistance from her husband.
“Okay. Good,” Alarik said “Lets go.” He marched towards the door but only got a few steps before...
“Wait!” The woman exclaimed and she rushed back through the doorway from which she had walked out earlier.
“Where’s she going?” Alarik asked her husband, but he needn’t have, for a few moments later she emerged carrying a small bundle of blankets. Popping out the end was a baby's face, no more than a few weeks old. A small tuft of wavy black hair protruded from the end of its head and the same mark his mother had crossed his left eye. The whole time wind and rain barreled through the destroyed window, sprinkling the room. “You have a child?!”
He was ignored as the husband moved towards his wife asking, “How is he?”
“Fine,” she said with a smile. “Still sleeping”
The husband chuckled nervously. “We’re lucky he’s a deep sleeper”
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“This complicates things,” Alarik noted gravely. “The child will slow us down”
“What are you suggesting we do, leave him?” the husband shot incredulously.
“No, of course not,” Alarik said. He heaved in a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “Let me think.'' He burrowed his head into one of his hands and began pacing the room. He was so careful with his research, how could he have missed the baby? Did the man after them know? Alarik deeply hoped he didn’t. Things were already bad enough. Several seconds of nervous pacing later, he announced, “Okay, I have an idea.” He crouched on one knee, removed one of his gloves and placed the fingers of his right hand on the wood paneled floor. He closed his eyes and focused deeply. A moment later the floor lit up green at the five points his fingers were touching. Subtle green light shone from beneath his eyelids. The couple felt the building shudder slightly as a wave of energy pulsed through it. The two stared, completely shocked, at Alarik.
“What on earth was that?” The husband asked in gushed amazement.
“Two floors up, there's an empty apartment” Alarik noted getting to his feet, refitting his glove. “We must go there, now.”
“But...how...?” the husband stuttered, still staring at the place on the floor that Alarik had touched.
“No questions. Move!” Alarik ordered forcefully, walking towards the door. Still in shock the couple did what was asked, following Alarik, clumsily fitting on a pair of shoes each that were by the door. Alarik checked around every corner before allowing the couple to follow him. As quickly as they could, Alarik, the couple and their baby made their way up to the fourth floor. They rushed down the corridor and found the door to the empty room Alarik had located. Alarik tried turning the round, silver handle, but it didn’t budge. “Locked,” he muttered.
Looking up and down the corridor to ensure they were indeed alone, Alarik waved his right hand over the lock of the door, his eyes this time with a light gleam of white. With a ‘click’ the door unlocked and he was able to push it open.
“Why do your eyes do that?” the husband queried nervously.
Alarik shook his head. “Not now.” He ushered the couple and their newborn into the room, locking the door behind him.
In the darkness the room appeared very much the same as the couples apartment, although the fragrance of mould and mildew filled the air. Alarik marched the couple into the centre of the room. The couple were staring timidly at Alarik. They stood close together, the woman cradling their child.
“Don’t move please,” Alarik requested, withdrawing his sword. The couple shuffled slightly at the sight of his sword, still weary of the strange man before them. Using the sword he carved a circle into the paneled floor around the couple and their baby. Once the circle was completed he knelt down, removing his glove once again and touched the carving with his index finger. After a moment the circle, and Alariks eyes, lit the room with the same green light as before, and multiple odd symbols appeared within the circle. The symbols faded and the light dimmed slightly, giving the room an eerie mood. Rays of green glowed into the corners casting shadows across the walls. It was now clear the apartment was uninhabited. Dust had collected on countertops and the room was bare and unfurnished. Alarik stood up, again sliding his glove back on. “I’m going to ask you to hand me the child.” The couple looked at him absurdly.
“Excuse me?” The husband asked, as though he’d misunderstood.
“We can’t get where we need to go if we have to carry him. I know somewhere close by he can stay in the meantime. As soon as the pair of you are safe I swear on my life I will come back for him. Now please. Do as I ask.” The couple looked at Alarik hesitantly. Alarik continued “If you do not, we will all die, right here”
The husband sighed. He thought deeply, then after a few moments staring into Alarik’s light blue eyes, submitted. “Do as he says, honey.” She looked from her husband to Alarik as if they'd both gone insane. The husband attempted to remove the baby from her arms but she clung to him tight, refusing to hand him over. Gently, the husband pried the baby out from her grip and carefully passed him to Alarik. The baby was warm in his arms.
“What’s his name?” Alarik asked softly, looking down at the sleeping baby.
“Cadmus,” the woman responded, her voice breaking slightly. A few silent tears had begun rolling down her cheeks. “His name is Cadmus.”
Alarik looked into the woman's eyes. She looked back into his. “I promise you he will be safe.”
She held eye contact for several long moments, then dropped her head, nodding at the floor. Alarik watched several tears fall to the floor from the woman's face.
“Where are you taking him?” The husband asked.
“There's an orphanage not far from here,” Alarik stated “They’ll look after him until I return.” Alarik moved towards the window, silently unlocking and pushing it outward. Before he stepped out he turned back to the couple. “I won’t be gone long. Whatever you do, do not leave that circle. It should keep you hidden from him, for now. Do you understand?” The husband nodded. The wife was staring blankly into nothing, questioning her decision to hand over Cadmus.
With one last look Alarik re-fitted his hood, stepped out through the window and clambered down the fire escape. He was careful not to wake the baby and shield him from the downpour. During Alarik’s study of the city, he knew exactly where the nearest orphanage was in relation to the apartment building.
He broke into a steady jog across the street, cradling Cadmus in his left arm, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He prayed the couple would do as he asked and remain where they were within the circle. He’d been working much too hard and for far too long to fail now.
A few blocks down and several minutes later, Alarik finally arrived outside the orphanage with Cadmus safe in hand. He placed him on the pavement in front of the door, undercover from the rain pounding the roads and rooftops. Cadmus was still snugly bundled in layers of blankets, peacefully asleep. With a sideways jerk of his right hand Alarik conjured a square, violet coloured paper from thin air. Words had already manifested themselves across the paper. They read: ‘My name is Cadmus. Please take care of me’ neatly written in black ink. He tucked the paper into a fold of the blankets and placed the palm of his left hand gently on Cadmus’ head. Leaning in close, Alarik whispered, “I’ll be back for you.”
At this moment Cadmus’ eyes gently flickered open, revealing a deep blue stare which pierced through Alarik. His eyes were unusually similar to Alariks, however a much deeper shade of blue. Alarik noted the baby shared his mothers eyes, as well as the mark across it. Alarik studied the birthmark with great curiosity.
Alarik sensed a familiarity in Cadmus’ eyes. He pondered if after all these years the very thing he had been so desperate to find was indeed lying on the ground before him. The thought sent a rush of elation through his body. Refusing to be distracted any longer, Alarik eventually managed to tear his gaze away from Cadmus. He reached up to the doorbell and held down the copper plated button. A buzzing emanated from inside the building. He saw a light flicker on and a shadow move across the wall. He quickly darted across the street, and hid from sight behind a large oak tree. From the long shadows cast by the tree's branches by a neighbouring street lamp, he squinted through the rain as a woman opened the door. She looked down to find Cadmus laying on the ground at her feet. She leaned over, reaching for the child, at the same time removing the violet paper. She stood in the doorway for a moment reading, holding Cadmus in one arm, the paper in her other. She tilted her head up, eyes scanning up and down the street for signs of life. Alarik moved closer to the tree, placing his hands on the rough trunk. It was damp and the trees' earthly aroma filled his nostrils. Not finding anything the woman from the orphanage turned, taking Cadmus inside with her. Confident that Cadmus was safe, Alarik turned on his heel and made off back towards the apartment, moving considerably faster now.
Alarik returned to the apartment building in half the time without trouble, however he noted flashing red and blue lights being emitted from the front of the building. Someone had called the police. ‘Great’ Alarik thought. ‘Exactly what we need.’ He climbed back up the shaky fire escape to the room he had left the couple in. He clambered through the window and, thankfully, the couple did as asked. They were standing close together in the circle he had drawn, the husband holding his wife in a tight embrace. He absent-mindedly stroked his wife's hair, staring distantly into a corner of the room. His eyes flicked across from the corner to find Alarik standing by the window, once again soaked and leaving a trail of water across the panelled floor.
“You're back,” the husband noted. “Thank god. We can hear them downstairs. Sounds like they're tearing up our apartment. And...there's someone yelling...a woman...”
“Cadmus is safe,” Alarik told them. “Now it’s time we-” Alariks voice faltered as he looked down at the circle he had drawn them. The green light was growing fainter. Slowly the light faded completely. They were left in near pitch darkness. Faint yellow street light drifted in through the window, barely illuminating the room. The world was deathly silent.
Alarik strained his ears for any sort of noise but all he could detect was the deafening pounding of his own heart.
“What happened?” whispered the husband.
“He’s here.” Alarik spoke with an undertone. “We have to g-” but before Alarik reached the end of his sentence, the door of the apartment exploded inwards, sending shrapnel of wooden chunks through the room. The force knocked the couple to the ground and caused Alarik to stumble several steps backwards. In the ruined doorway stood an enormous man wearing thick, dark clothes. His face was indiscernible under his heavy hood. He was so large he would have had to bend down to enter the room, had he not destroyed the doorway. His presence filled the room with sickening dread and darkness. “RUN!” Alarik yelled at the couple as he charged toward the tall dark figure, withdrawing his sword. Alarik barely made it a few steps before the figure lazily flicked one hand to the side, throwing Alarik into the wall of the kitchen with blinding speed. He fell to the floor with a deep heavy thud, his sword clanging on the kitchen tiles along with splintered wood and cracked doors from the kitchen cabinets. The couple had barely made it off the ground when the hooded man outstretched his arm. Darkness swept across the room, as though shadows extended out from his hand. The shadows grabbed the woman, ripping her back towards the figure. She went soaring across the room, twisting in the air, her neck being caught in the figure's open hand, her body swaying helplessly.
The husband yelled “Hey!”, whipping around and running towards the figure. The hooded man outstretched his other hand in a flash, launching a dark blade across the room, penetrating deep into the husband's chest, throwing the man back off his feet. He recalled the blade. The husband lay on the floor, motionless, blood soaking his clothes and the wooden boards beneath him. The woman made every effort to kick and scream but her kicks were futile and her screams gargled by the force of the hooded man's fist crushing her throat. The hooded man brought the blade up with tremendous force and plunged it sideways through the woman's skull. He ripped the blade out of her head and released her limp body. She joined her husband on the floor, blood oozing from the holes in her head, her blue eyes glazed and lifeless.
Alarik began to stir and saw the couples bloodied crumpled bodies on the ground before him. It was as though the world had stopped. So many years of searching, only for his final hope to be snuffed out while he lay helpless on the floor. ‘No, not our final hope’ a small voice echoed in the back of his mind. ‘There’s still their child.’ He mustered all his strength, dragged himself to his feet, and rushed towards the window, scooping up his sword as he ran. Despite Alariks head start, the hooded man caught up with him instantly, gripping Alarik’s left forearm tightly, crushing the bones to dust. The figure jerked Alariks face towards his own and in the dim light Alarik could make out a cruel gruesome smile. The face was sickly white, flecked with scarlet blood from the woman.
“You lose, old man,” the figure taunted in a deep, chilling voice. His breath reeked of rotten meat and blood, nearly causing Alarik to pass out.
Alarik regathered his thoughts while trying fruitlessly to wrench his arm free but the hooded man’s grip was far too tight. He swung wildly at the figure's body with his sword but the blade simply thudded dully into the figure’s side, achieving nothing. It felt as though he had swung his sword into thick padded concrete. Alariks world appeared to move in slow motion. He watched in horror as the figure began to draw back his arm holding the blade, preparing to end Alariks life, as easily as he had the couple’s before him. ‘This can’t be the end’ that same echoing voice rang in his head, louder now. ‘The child lives. This isn’t over’. Alarik used his final breaths to mutter several strange words. His eyes once again glowed red, but this time so did his crushed arm. With all his might Alarik brought the sword up in a sweeping motion, severing his arm just below the elbow. His eyes and the attached portion of Alariks arm faded back to their normal shades, his severed forearm however, continued to glow red. Alarik stumbled backwards away from the figure. The red from Alariks forearm grew brighter and flashed the entire room, causing a tremendous explosion, going off in the hooded man’s hand.
Once the dust from the explosion had settled the hooded man twisted his head around the room. Alarik had disappeared. All he could find was a trail of blood drops which led to the open window, glass shattered by the force of the explosion. The figure looked out the broken windows at the buildings and streets below, but Alarik was nowhere in sight. He snuffed and strode over to the woman's body, nudging it with his foot. Confirming she was dead he exited the room with a smile. ‘It does not matter’ he thought to himself. ‘I have already won.’