by M. P. Taylor
No answer jumped to mind.
Chapter Nineteen
Gerald brought down the containment ward, a crackling of thunder that spared me from thinking about my fate as Irena's servant.
He grit his teeth a bit and stumbled forward. I caught him and slung his arm over my shoulder. It was a stupid move. Gerald was built like a truck. A big truck with a full load of cement in the back. I buckled down a bit but he managed to regained his footing before I toppled. Small mercies.
“How you feeling?” I asked him.
“Whole body needs to be on ice for a day or two. Used too much on those kids and the ward. I got a couple more spells in me before I'm empty.”
“Great,” I helped him up the stairs and onto the old style porch, “Hopefully Natasha has it all wrapped up by now.”
Gerald gave a disapproving look, “Things I've learned on the job, never count on anything being done.”
I gave an amused nod, if only to fend off the feeling of dread that was beginning to build.
We pushed our way into the lobby of the hotel, a large open room that had a number of massive pillars that split the room into separate sections. There should have been people here. Day workers, justicars and even residence just checking in with one another. At the very least, a receptionist should have stood behind the massive, oaken desk. Yet the room was vacant and silent save for the dull roar of heaters that filled the entrance with uncomfortable warmth.
Gerald continued to walk forward, I in his wake, “Hopefully the residence made it to the safe room.”
That was a comforting thought, “We should find where they were holding Ethan. That will confirm my fears.”
Gerald nodded and began to set off down one of the hallways, apparently knowing where to go.
Our journey became one of uncomfortable discovery.
As soon as we turned into one of the hallways, blood could be seen. It was splattered on the walls in a manner that seemed utterly unbelievable. Like some cheesy B movie. I wouldn't have believed it real if I didn't see the corpse that laid nearby – a woman wearing the colors of hotel staff, tossed against the wall. One leg had been torn off and tossed on the ground nearby, doubtless the source of the excessive bloodstain on the walls.
Fallen from her hands was the staff of a wizard, she hadn't gone down without a fight.
Gerald and I shared a look but didn't stop moving. There was nothing we could do for her now, she'd died some time ago and the blood around her leg was already cold. We doubled our step with the vague hope that the others hadn't shared her fate.
The worse part was, I had a good notion of what had killed the woman. Ethan's mutated body had more than enough strength to do that grim task. That woman was dead by his hands or something very much like him. Strong, deadly and without remorse. Something that wouldn't have been there if I didn't Trojan horse Ethan into the building for Harold. I wondered if there were a dozen eaters all having a feast at my expense.
I gripped my staff so tightly that it hurt and keep walking.
From somewhere off in the hotel we heard a noise. A kind of inhuman wail of pain that made us both flinch.
I turned to Gerald, “Where'd that come from?”
“This way!” he took off in a sprint.
We wound our way through a number of hallways that resembled a maze far more than a hotel. I would have been lost on my own, but Gerald seemed to know this place like the back of his hand. The next time we heard a similar scream, it was closer.
He urged me to follow with a shout but it wasn't fair. Gerald was easily a good foot and half taller than me and had a stride that most Olympic athletes would be hard pressed to match. He gained distance on me to the point where I could just see the ends of his coat as I turned a corner.
“Come on!” he ordered and I obeyed. If he could keep this up after being tortured, I'd damned if I didn't keep pace.
Our destination didn't prove to be much further. There was a final scream of inhuman anguish as we turned a corner and came face to face with a sight of pure carnage. The blood was thick upon the carpeted ground, corpses of monsters were pilling one on top of another.
Off on the far side of the hallway was an fog that glowed with a bright aura that I recognized as being a soulwell, a link to the abyss.
From it, I could sense a number of spirits and lost souls pouring out and into the room. Most were immaterial beings, things made of thoughts and will with no ability to naturally interact with the material world – like the eater's spirit without a body. Some were not.
A hand ripped through the veil, its color was ashen with skin so tightly woven around muscle that one could see the coils of sinew moving. Fingernails, black as obsidian, grabbed onto a nearby wall and pulled. It was trying to physically bring itself into our world and it was going to succeed.
A slight tremor of movement appeared along with a glint of silver.
Natasha teleported in front of the portal, gun in hand. It was some form of high caliber weapon. I knew because the sound made my ears ring for the next few hours.
Her first shot hit the ashen arm and set the limb flailing backwards as though it were falling from a great height. Natasha then stuck her hand into the portal and fired off another round, those ones was thankfully silent – apparently sound doesn't travel well through the abyss.
Natasha pulled back and put a ward in place around the portal. Not dismissing it, but keeping it contained for a moment or two.
The Third Blade then turned to us with a unfeeling expression. Her thumb cocked back the hammer of her weapon before leveling it straight at me. My eyes widened a bit and I attempted to take a step back, as though that would help.
“Don't move,” Natasha command, I'd thought Gerald was capable of giving orders but it paled compared to Natasha's fierceness.
Her eyes glanced to Gerald, “Get away from her. She's with them.”
Gerald stepped between us, “Bullshit.”
Natasha lowered her pistol, “She brought a damned eater into our walls. The thing was playing good. Her exorcism was nothing more the a sham. Once she left, everything went to hell.”
“Natasha. Please listen to me,” I urged her, mainly on the principal that she'd wipe the floor with me if it come to trading blows, “I didn't have anything to do with this. Harold is the summoner.”
“Harold?” she sounded surprised, the idea having never entered her mind “Why would he want to betray us? He's a fleshcrafter, not a...a spirit summoner.”
“Its true,” Gerald let out a deep sigh as though the words physically pained him to say, “He took me out, wanted to pin things on Cath. I think she forced his hand when she began to look into the killings. Found his puppet company and partner, the vamp she killed. He's scared now. Making his move before he runs out of time. Probably hopes that we'll kill each other in the confusion.”
“And I should just take your word for it?” she asked, “Gerald. You were missing for two days. That's more than enough time for a mind mage to scramble things around in your head. Or a sadistic demon possessed witch.”
I raised my eyebrow, “If Almushil was in my mind, you'd know it. I'd be blasting my way through here, not talking.”
“Lower your ward,” Natasha ordered me.
That was pushing things. I could see in her eye that she was ready to kill anything that got in her way, be that me, Gerald or anyone else.
My ward was strong enough to deal with a bullet. Lowering that would make me venerable and that was something the primitive part of me, the survival instinct, didn't like.
Her eyes narrowed at my hesitance. A final threat, lower the ward now or we fight.
It didn't take me long to decide. If she did kill me, then at least her and Gerald would be able to move on and focus on the real threat. Maybe that would be worth it.
With an effort of will, I dismissed my ward. My hand went up, grabbed Gerald by the shoulder and pushed him out of the way. He looked at me, warning me that this was stupid. I
just shook my head, handed him my staff and sheathed my sword.
Then, unarmed and unprotected, I walked out of his ward and towards Natasha.
The Third Blade considered me for a moment, her eyes chilling me with the coldness behind them. She was no longer the relaxed veteran telling me a story and trying to play good cop. Now she was a killer. A killer who was calculating if it was worth not putting the barrel of her gun to my head and pulling the trigger.
I offered my open palms, a universal sign of surrender.
That seemed to do the trick. She put her handcannon of a gun into the folds of her jacket.
“Harold was the one who first reported the soulwells,” Natasha shook her head a bit, “We need to move. If he is the traitor then I've made a big mistake?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Gerald seemed to gain an understanding, “You ordered him into the safe room.”
“Yes. We needed to keep him safe, he was the only fleshcrafter in the building when the soulwells opened. Our wounded are being brought back to him there, safe behind wards.”
“Sorry,” I interrupted, “Soulwells? As in multiple?”
Natasha's dire look confirmed my nightmare,
“I ordered anyone who could fight to stand guard by the south most soulwell and the one in the basement. I've been handling the other two myself, teleporting back and forth. We've been burning through men fast, too fast. I ordered the lockdown and brought our wounded and children into the safehouse. Harold's there, suppose to be tending the wounded and keeping things in order.”
“Perfect victims for someone seeking sacrifices,” I noted.
“No,” Gerald shook his head, “Harold isn't going to go around killing kids, I don't believe that. Someone must have some dirt on him. There's no way he's powerful enough to do that kind of summoning, even if he wanted. Natasha, you've seen him work. He can heal a few wounds at most before he's out of breath.”
“So is he the traitor or not?” Natasha asked, a trace of annoyance in her tone.
Gerald glared before spitting out an answer, “Yes. I believe he is but he can't be working alone. He doesn't have that kind of strength.”
“There were some kids outside. Complete amateurs at magic but they tried to stop us from entering,” Gerald nodded, understanding where I was going, “They were talking about a master. I assumed they meant Harold, but it might have been someone else.”
“Enough,” Natasha ordered, “I've got to deal with the other soulwell, the ward there is being worked down. You two have to deal with Harold, you won't be able to hold these portals yourselves and the safe house is warded, I can't just jump in. Get there, find him and put him down.”
“Kill him?”
“Yes Gerald. I've been at this for five hours now, I can't keep them back forever,” she let out a sigh, “I know he was your friend but what you two are saying makes sense. He was in the perfect position to go undetected and set something like this up. Why? I don't know. How? Gerald, you and I both know there are many ways to extend one's power through less than moral means. Blood sacrifice. Possession. The list goes on and on.”
Natasha pointed to the portal, “The only thing I know right now is that there are four soulwells to the abyss opened. They require a constant effort of will to maintain. Kill the summoner, and they will go down. Do you understand me?”
My heart tightened a bit as I watched Gerald close his eyes and nodded, “I'll do what has to be done.”
“Good. We will deal with this master, if there is one, after this crisis has been resolved,” Natasha gave her command, then was engulfed in a silvery light as she blinked out of existence – teleporting to the other soulwell.
Me and Gerald didn't waste words. He tossed me my staff and we began sprinting through the building once more. I'd already been somewhat short of breath, I'm a wizard not an athlete, so the continued pursuit of Gerald proved a difficult task.
I understood why Natasha had learned teleportation magic. It was endlessly useful, saving both time and effort. In theory anyway, maybe teleportation magic took way more energy than I thought. It was certainly worth investigating in the future and, as I continued to fail at running, the future couldn't come soon enough.
We were so focused on our sprint that we didn't see the creature lurking on the ceiling above, waiting to jump on unsuspecting prey as we turned a corner.
It let Gerald run right past but tackled me to the ground in a mess of tangled limbs and chitinous hide.
I let out a grunt, tried to break free, but one of its many limbs grabbed hold of my head. I got a good look at it as it brought its mouth down, apparently ready to bite my head off.
Like most things of the underworld, it wasn't quite human but had specs of humanity littered about its form. Its eyes, for example, were very human. Piecing blue with a mad look in them that I'd only seen in the mirror before. The rest of its body seemed like some kind of insect. A hard outer shell of armor that was made in plate-like material. Strands of thick fleshy spines hung over its body, a sort of fur or hair that might have made sense on another planet or dimension.
The thing that brought me fear was its mouth. An endless sea of musculur growths covered in a pale liquid that promised to devour all it could. My hand lashed out, reached past the mouth, and clawed at the things eyes. Didn't matter how armored something was – there was always a weak point.
It howled and reeled back a bit as my nails ripped into the soft tissue and put pressure on the eye. Popping it and sending fluid down my hand.
It didn't let go of me which meant that I was on a wild ride as it yanked back and surged with its feet. Or something approaching feet. They were more like a base under which a hundred thousand tiny needle-like limbs moved.
It slammed me into a wall as it did so, causing the wind to be knocked from me. An uncomfortable amount of pressure was applied to my neck as it pressed me harder and harder against the wall.
A burst of heat scorched my forearm and burnt straight through part of my coat.
It was the radiant heat of Gerald's beam of pure energy. It struck the thing just inches from me, severing its small, spiny hand and sending me to the ground. Or rather onto the base on which it traveled, a slime covered shell that doubtless protected its fleshly underbody and its legion of little legs.
Rolling off of it and onto the ground, I made it to my feet.
The lobster thing howled from behind me and I knew it wasn't going to stand still. Chances were, it was leaping towards me while I took a second to get my bearings.
With that in mind, my free hand grabbed the sword and drew it from its sheath. There wasn't enough time to create a ward or unleash a spell. A single slash would be all I had. I came out low with an upward slash.
A hand struck just above my position, slamming into the wall with enough strength to smash my head off its spinal column. With that blow evaded, my sword had a clean path into its chest.
The razor blade came up and stuck upon its chitinous hide where it...bounced off without much of an effect.
Right, I thought to myself, the blade just destroys enchantments. Doesn't give me super strength. Stupid blade.
“Get away from it!” Gerald shouted before he began chanting another spell.
The newly made burn on my arm throbbed with pain. Get away, it warned, or be covered in pain like me. Gerald was deadly but his technique was that of fire and ruin. There was no doubt in my mind that he could cook the lobster man in his shelly armor, but if he used that force...well, I'd be cooked right along with the monster. I had until he finished his spell to get to safety.
A few seconds at best to avoid a fiery hell.
I struck once more with my long sword, aiming at his remaining mad eye. The creature seemed to recall the pain my hand alone had caused last time. It back off just a few feet.
Ice magic was far less powerful than that of fire magic. Fire burned. It consumed and took everything that laid in its path. Fire was pure in that wa
y.
Ice was solid. It required effort to be given shape. It was more malleable and one could just as soon make a deadly blade of ice as a snow man. There was strength in that. Sure, ice had less power but it allowed one to do things such as making a barrier. Kinetic wards were strong, true, but it didn't hurt to enforce a ward with physical material such as ice.
There wasn't enough ambient moisture to create as much water as would be needed. I was forced to expend arcane energy, the natural reserve of power in a wizard's body, to create new liquid. It was a fundamental art that took no more than a syllable or two – a race between myself and Gerald. A race we both hoped I would win.
The otherworldly thing roared at me and jumped. I finished my spell. The ice wrapped itself about my body. Entombing me in a thick shell of cold, hardened ice. Not that it was just ice. There was also an enchantment about it, a ward of sort that reinforced the material. It made it into a clear oceanic blue that had the strength of iron.
The monster's armored hand bounced off of my barrier, unable to penetrate it.
Creating so much water, freezing it and then laying enchantments upon it was powerful, but it was also draining. I could hold this up for a few seconds at most.
Sometimes that's all you need.
Gerald let out with a roar of flames. They engulfed the hallway, setting alight everything in their path.
The lobsterman was the center target off it. It tried to scramble away for half a second, then its nerve endings became fried and overwhelmed by the heat. Those thousand little legs of its skittered and it slammed into the ground near my icy tomb.
There I could see it boiling within its own carapace. Liquid streamed out, between the plates, looking for some kind of release. When its one remaining eye exploded for the water within evaporating, I figured it was dead.
When the spell ended. My ice tomb still held. A few inches had been melted away but all in all I was untouched besides the burn from Gerald's first attack. I decided not to hold it against him on account of my neck not being snapped by that thing.
