Shaded Death

Chapter 1- Fallen

"Shade, Run!" His mentor shouted, all thoughts of secrecy forgotten. They were swarming into the hidden base, ready to find, and kill all that lived there. There was no escape. The masked figure was firing arrow after arrow expertly at the armored figures. They were trying, but failing, to block the flurry of arrows with their steel swords. Already a fifth of the five dozen men had fallen from his cloaked mentor. But they were advancing steadily toward the two, and they were greatly outnumbered.

"Run!" His mentor shouted again, icy blue eyes narrowed in fury.

"I'm not leaving, Frost." 19 year old Shade muttered stubbornly, pulling out his own bow, preparing to fire.

Frost stopped his deadly arrows from firing to hold out a hand and put it on Shade's bow, lowering it to point downwards, "I told you to leave. Now go."

Hidden from view under his black fedora-like hat, his unusual magenta eyes narrowed as well, a growl escaping his lips.

"Fine," Was his reply, and he put his obsidian-tipped arrow back in the quiver, and strapped his bow to his back. But as swiftly as he wished to move, he didn't move fast enough. Before long, they had gotten to the secret entrance. He made a run for it, only hoping that his mentor was behind him. So he continued his frantic, but soundless dash for safety. Half-way to his destination, though, he heard louder commotion from where he had come from. A sharp gasp, then the commotion.

No, he pleaded silently. He could only guess what had happened. He couldn't stop the tears from coming, and it blurred his gaze, making him trip over a raised root. He tried to get up, but froze when he heard footsteps in the dense forest. Shade froze, trying to seem invisible in the nighttime shadows. He must have moved slightly, or something, because after an eleven second's pause - Shade counted- there was a voice:

"Come on out," The voice growled.

Shade could have sworn his heart stopped for a few second's time, then his breath quickened. Shade knew what was coming, but his chaser was too quick, and he didn't have enough time to dodge:

There was something flying through the air, and then Shade let out a hiss of pain. Looking down, he saw that the figure had thrown a dagger at where he hid. The dagger had hit his upper side, and the black cloth tunic he wore was starting to turn darker around the wound. It was obviously supposed to be a killing blow, but the attacker missed his target. He let out another groan.

The figure, now knowing exactly where Shade hid, instead of just the general area, stalked toward Shade. He could now see a pattern on the man's tunic: a black wolf silhouette with many swirls running through it, green and silver. It was the mark of the Kraris Kingdom; the man was no doubt a member of the Castle Guard. But this was in no way news to Shade. He bent down next to Shade and flicked his fedora off, revealing Shade's magenta eyes. The Guard was sort of surprised, but he didn't show it for long. He grabbed the dagger from Shade, which caused him to cry out in pain. The Guard then smiled crookedly, then spoke:

"The traitor I suppose you call friend," He sneered when he said 'friend,' but continued, "Well he's been caught. Sent for trial in the Royal Court at first light, Frost will probably be sentenced for death. You'll be joining him soon." He snickered, then wiped the dagger clean with the end of his tunic, sheathed it, then prepared to lift Shade up. Shade clutched his wounded side painfully, letting out a painful groan. As he was being lifted none-too-gently by the Krarin guard, he heard a sudden grunt of pain from his captor. Shade was dropped back to ground, and he let out a pain-filled shriek of his own as his wounded side hit the mossy ground first. But despite the throbbing pain Shade felt a wave of relief. Was it an arrow that caused the guard to fall? Had Frost escaped? Or was she never captured in the first place? But just then his hope was quickly demolished as a large framed figure came out of his hiding, and toward Shade. This was not Frost. To Shade's dismay, however, the corners of his vision was dotted with black spots, and again he was aware of a constant throbbing in his side. He struggled to back away from the unknown figure but found that he was too weak. "Friend or foe?" he wanted to ask, but nothing came out. Am I dying? He couldn't help but think. His hand fell to the ground from where he had been clutching the gash in his side.

The black spots grew more intense until it clouded his whole vision. His magenta eyes grew dull and unfocused. The blurry image of the mysterious figure leaning down next to Shade was the last thing Shade saw before he fell completely still.

There was a figure silently traveling through the undergrowth, dagger in hand. He froze, though, once he heard noises. Now completely silent, he slowly made his way to, what he now saw, two figgures. One figure was barely noticable; his black-dyed clothing blended in with the dark forest floor where he lay. The other was crouched over the fallen figure, talking in a low voice. Undetected, the hunter inched forward to try to hear what they were saying. But now he noticed that the figure talking had the symbol of Kraris. His eyes widened: This was a guard of the royal family! He could also see that the younger figure had his left hand clutching his side. The cloth around it was even darker than the rest of the tunic. He was wounded! And by the looks of it, he was wounded badly. Was he possibly wanted? He inched a few paces forward. Now, finally, he was able to make out what the Kraris guard was saying:

". . . Sent for trial in the Royal Court at first light, Frost will probably be sentenced for death. You'll be joining him soon." The guard snickered and the hidden figure saw him clean off a blood-soaked dagger with the end of his shirt, put it in its sheath, then went to pick the wounded figure up. The watcher winced slightly when he heard the wounded figure let out a pain-filled groan. But the hunter's eyes widened even more. From what he heard, this wounded outlaw-whoever he was-was in leauge with the infameous Frost! But now he was going to the Royal Dungeon, if he didn't die from his nasty wound first. The watching figure sighed, but made a silent decision and grabbing his dagger from where it lay, he expertly flung it toward the guard. It hit it's target: his upper leg. It wouldn't kill him, he knew, but it would stop him from folowing the hunter. The guard fell with a surprised shout, but had enough sense to keep silent. He stepped out of hiding, careful to keep his face hidden from the guard's view, as he took his dagger back and put it in it's sheath. He then leaned over Frost's wounded companion. Now he was able to get a clear view of him for the first time.

He saw that this wasn't any wanted outlaw. The fallen figure was just a boy! The boy, he saw, tried to say something, but was too weak. The next thing the figure was able to see made him freeze. The boy's magenta-colored eyes weren't a usual sight at all. But. . . but they were unfocused, and his hands trembled. the figure's eyes narrowed, thinking, but didn't say a word. But suddenly, the young boy's hand fell from where it hid the wound. It was a large gash right above his waist on the left side of the body, and it was bleeding heavily. For the second time, the older figure's eyes widened. This was a life-or-death kind of wound.

But then, the boy went completely still, eyes open but completely unfocused.

"No!" Breathed the figure in barely a whisper, but went to carefully lift the boy up and walk back into the undergrowth, leaving the wounded guard alone.