Free The Vitalis Chronicles: Tomb of the Relequim by Jay Swanson Page A

in its own private breeze. Having the likeness of Alisia so close made his heart swell. He had never longed for anything or anyone so much in his life.
    His failure to destroy Tertian came back to him. Perhaps he wasn't as far off the right track as he had feared. He shook the hope from his head. Of course he was. He knew it. He had intended to end Tertian, whether he had succeeded or not. He had wanted him to disappear forever.
    “ The Magi have served their time on this earth, Ardin. Among them you are the last, and you are to be the greatest.”
    “ I'm no Mage.” He turned to look at the strange light.
    “ You are right to say so. You are something more. Much, much more.”
    What were the odds he could win himself back, Ardin wondered. He was on the brink of something dark and terrible and he knew it. The asylum had proved that to him if killing Tertian hadn't. Even more so now that he enjoyed the power, even at the expense of life. Especially at the expense of life. He was discovering the cost and he was afraid he was all too willing to pay it.
    “ Ardin, please. What Charsi meant for harm, for evil, you can turn to good. You will fall again, I promise you that. But you must press on. There are many people beyond yourself who depend on your ability to complete your task.”
    “ Who could possibly depend on me?” Ardin shouted as he whipped back on the Being. “Who would be foolish enough? I'm just a boy! A boy who killed everyone he ever loved! If the future rides on me then you're lost! God, you're hopelessly lost.”
    He turned to walk out of the room, but stopped as the spirit spoke his name.
    “ You are carrying burdens that are not yours to bear, Ardin. Don't let them defeat you. Free yourself of them, or you will never be able to free your fellow man.”
    Ardin started walking. He just wanted out of the place. It felt clean. He wasn't clean. He was wretched, unclean, murderous. He wanted out. He screamed it in his head; he wanted out!
    The voice carried along the stone as he made his way out.
    “ Make for Grandia, Ardin. It is the only path through which you will find your redemption.”
    It was all he could do to keep from sprinting down the hall. The gazes of the statues around him were no longer awe-inspiring; now condemning, burning into him, they caused the tension in his neck to twist and grow hot. It felt like the base of his skull might detach itself from his spine. He just wanted to be free of the close, oppressive space.
    He did run then. He ran as hard as he could and took the steps three at a time. The door was cracked open to him again and he squeezed through, not bothering to open it any wider. He stumbled onward, crying through the pain and the guilt. He wished he had never been made to feel this way, when finally he tripped and fell.
    There he lay, face in the snow, crying and moaning for what felt like self-indulgent ages.
    A crunch in the snow made him stop. He held his breath, unwilling to look up, wishing it was an enemy. Even a wild animal. Anyone seeking his life.
    Just take it, he thought. Please, just take it.
    A large hand rested firmly on his shoulder blade, the thumb rubbing his back softly for a moment before going still.
    “ Well lad,” came a familiar voice. “You're a bugger to track down.”

S IX
     
    “ S HIT, SIR .” Captain Brendyn Sykes wiped the blood and sweat off his forehead as he stared at the twitching mass of monsters that lay around them. “What the hell were those things?”
    Major Anders Keaton bit his tongue as he surveyed the scene. He didn't want to believe it was possible. He wanted everything to stay simple, to stay real. But the vision he had been given weeks before hadn't been a vision after all. He had been visited by one of the Brethren. And the being hadn't been lying when he had come.
    “ Get the butcher's bill, Sykes.”
    Captain Sykes frowned a moment, but stood and walked off to check on his men. Keaton sighed. That would keep him busy for