Vermilion Cloud by William Soppitt

Author:William Soppitt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Alternate, hidden, mind, memory, history, sword
Publisher: William Soppitt
Published: 2017-07-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9.

A single bell sounded somewhere in the distance as the face of a solitary young woman, white silk framing her face, allowed no other memory to occupy Richard’s mind.

Tranquil and serene, Richard stared at her, an occasional blink on an otherwise motionless face. “Who are you?” he thought.

The moisture on her lips caused them to tug at each other as her mouth gently opened. “Shanna.”

The word itself whispered as though to a child for the first time, seemed familiar to him. Trying to search his memories, he found that nothing else would show other than the face of this mysterious woman.

Panic took hold as he quickly thought. “Am I dead?”

Her expression remained unchanged. “No,” she replied softly.

“I killed my wife,” he thought, sadness showing even through the words in his head.

“Yes. We know.”

“What other choice did I have?” he continued, frustration mixing with anger through his head. “Why is this happening to me? Why do you come to me now?”

“I come to know you. To know yourself. To show that you are never alone.”

“I killed the person I loved the most. The one reason I had to live.”

“You have your son. You saved a great many people.”

“Where do you fit into this? Are you an ancestor?”

“I am the first ancestor. The first Atla.”

His eyes flicked open as a searing stab of pain caused his muscles to tighten. Through gritted teeth and blurred vision, he looked down to see his leg bandaged with a yellow cloth, blue cream oozing from each side. A hand squeezed down pinching at the bandage.

Peter relaxed his grip as he stood up. “Glad to see you’re awake Richard. I hope I didn’t interrupt any dreams you were having,” he said sarcastically. “You put on quite a show. Banding the shackles together like that. That crossbow, well that was genius. True genius.”

Grabbing a small piece of fruit from the table, he began to toss it casually into the air. “I didn’t think you had it in you. Murder your own wife like that. Of course, I didn’t really think that she would make it so easy for you.”

Richard, the pain subsiding in his leg, spat his words at him. “You bastard. You gave her no choice.”

“No choice!” Peter shouted as he threw the fruit at the wall. “If she had killed you then we would be free. She would have been with her son and your dead flesh would have been our way out.” Calming down, he sighed deeply. “Richard Whyte. Saviour of humanity. Killer of his wife. Who would have thought?”

Moving over to the doorway, he paused briefly. “We leave in sixteen hours.”

“What about my son?”

Peter continued to walk to the doorway. “I said you would see your family again and you have.”

Richard attempted to move as Peter disappeared from sight. As waves of pain fought through his body, he relaxed back on the makeshift bed. Several moments of silence passed as he kept his gaze on the ceiling above him.

“Hello, Richard.”

Connie’s familiar soft voice broke the silence as he kept his gaze on him.

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