Hello and welcome to Fiction Friday where I share some of my writing. If you missed the last chapter, check it out here.
Here is this Friday’s:
The Shift Runners moved through the other people in the room so they could be closest to the Valdoobal. Three individuals led the way: Domenic, Haywood, and Ezekiel, friends of the girl who was taken.They spread out across the front so they could each analyze and dissect the ancient beings.
Domenic, werewolf of the three, stood front and center at a pleasant 6’3″. As much as he was outside his skin was still a little pale with light hair and thusly considered the defect of his litter, nevermind the fact that he was one of their best fighters and situational analysts.
As if he were steam passing through a grate, Ezekiel maneuvered his lean frame to the right, scanning the bunch as he passed. He kept his eyes low for many glanced his way, trailing his path, drawn to him. For a witch he was well built, a cross between a cyclist and a swimmer with dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and a smirk that could turn metal to liquid. He got settled in position and wondered where Haywood was.
Haywood just made it to her side as one of the Valdoobal started to speak. She folded her thick arms and leaned against a column, crossing her feet, leaning her head back. Easily she blends in to her surroundings with dark hair and stern features. She glanced at Domenic, wondering if she should have taken point position. She was the shifter of the group, the only one of them with the ability to actually harness any animals’ skills and senses. Spotting a poised Ezekiel, Haywood adjusts herself, some of her bones cracking. She flexes her ankle and turns her full attention to the person speaking.
A female starts to speak first. As words leave her mouth she stands and they all lower their hoods, its display more for dramatic affect than anonymity. The bunch appeared young yet wise, experienced, weathered. I suppose anyone would after our last war which had been our most…raw.
The Valdoobal are our front-liners, the most powerful of our kind that take on the brunt of the attack. They are suppose to be individuals who are refined, strategic, and composed, yet, they were undiscerning, uncivilized, and uncouth. They were all over the place. No one even quite knows how or why the war even ended nearly half a century ago. In fact, the only person in the room besides the Valdoobal who had been alive during the war was Hildebrand.
“Hello all, I am glad to see that you are all safe and unharmed. My name is Drishti.” Her voice echoed through the room. Her small smile seemed sincere but a tad creepy. She shifted and clasped her hands in front of her. “We are all here because there has been a breech here on campus. As we understand it, Shift Runner Itzel Catori has been taken by the breachers and is missing.” She paused, scanning the room.
Haywood adjusted her position, something not sitting right with her. She glanced over at Ezekiel, the witch in their group. The four of them had grown up together, had been living on the move together until a member of the Valdoobal came and brought them here to campus. They knew each other better than they knew themselves, which is why Haywood became more nervous when she saw Ezekiel rubbing his wrist.
See, witches can be complicated creatures. It isn’t all wands, candles, circles, and spells. It’s raw energy, it’s emotion, it’s the elements, the minerals, the molecules, every and anything that is made of matter. Not all witches can manifest their true power without a conduit. Ezekiel, however, is one of them who can. There is a ward drawn on his wrist that all who can do this receive, only visible to his kind. He says it itches when someone with the ward is using great power.
Drishti somehow stepped through the table and closer to the group gathered. Instinctively they all took a step back. This widened Drishti’s creepy smile. Ezekiel clutched his wrist and glanced at first Domenic, then me, with a look that said all too well shit was about to hit the fan. Abruptly someone else stood up at the table.
“Drishti.” She didn’t get any closer, just watched us all with that creepy smile. Hildebrand who suddenly seemed to come alive, left his perch at the wall and walked straight over to her. To all of our surprise, he picked her up and started dancing, twirling her around the room. The person who’d stood up and said “Drishti,” took off that identical cape they were all wearing and draped it over the chair. He hopped and sat on the table.
Haywood glanced at Ezekiel and noticed he wasn’t rubbing his wrist so harshly anymore. He had mentioned that sometimes old witches could get caught up in their magic flow, how it feels, how it courses through and around them dormant and then suddenly active, like injecting a drug. Hildebrand’s dancing must have snapped her out of it.
The students and Shift Runners were uneasy and confused. The lot of them had never met a Valdoobal. Of course they all learned about them, knew that The Valdoobal were elected and replaced only if one had died. The person replacing them had to be the same sex and creature. Twelve people, three of them the same creature, six male and six female.
However, they hadn’t had to replace someone in a full century.
“Our walls have not been breached since the last war,” the figure sitting on the table started. He was probably the smallest of the Valdoobal, standing at about 5’5″. He had jet black hair and a thick stocky build wearing jeans and shirt with a name tag that read “I Am Orson.”
“All you know about the past is what you have read, what you have been told, what you have heard. The majority of you were born 200 years after the war ended. You have been trained to fight a threat that you have never encountered, and how to compose yourselves in a situation or an environment that is recreated.”
Orson let his words hang in the room before he continued. “What Itzel Catori encountered, we are not quite sure. It is unlike what we have seen and handled before. We are going to need absolutely everyone’s cooperation and participation if we are to successfully defend this campus from the imposing threat. You need to be more prepared for what is ahead. Pay close attention to what your about to see. Mafalda, Cater,” he gestured to two figures at the table.
Each individual took their cape off. Cater, who was sitting to Orson’s right, stood up, stretched, and walked towards where Mafalda stayed seated. She closed her eyes and spread her hands on the table. She was a large woman who if she stood towered over most of the people in the room. She was the most built of the Valdoobal and looked the most sinister. Cater was blond with gray eyes and with a friendly grocery store polite smile. Cater put his hands on Mafalda’s head and started to hum.
Ezekiel turned his body a smidgen and stretched out his leg. He cut himself just a bit on the tip of his finger and pressed it into the rock. A string of purple appeared and snaked its way down the wall and towards the center of the room. It split and a tendril went to Haywood and the other to Domenic. When the tendrils touched them, they connected.
“I thought I’d take this opportunity to check in with you guys,” Ezekiel said to them telepathically. His magic aura would be lost in a room with this much magic flowing about.
Domenic, Haywood, and Ezekiel began their own private conversation while everyone else watched mesmerized as Cater projected battle images from Mafalda’s past.