Cloak Games: Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  I couldn’t outrun those anthrophages, no more than I could outrun a man on a motorcycle. My lightning spell might let me take down one or two, but the rest would jump over the corpses of their fellows to tear me apart. Occluding or Masking would be useless. Cloaking would let me hide from them, but only for a few moments, and they would not give up before I had to drop the Cloak.

  I would have do something clever. I had no idea what, but…

  A gleam caught my eye as the ribbons of fire overhead reflected off something shiny. I saw a broad pond lying between two of the hills, shallow enough that I could see the rounded pebbles lying on its bottom. Apparently I was not yet high enough for the swamp to dry up completely.

  As I looked at the water, a desperate idea came to me.

  It was a stupid idea and might get me killed. On the other hand, the anthrophages were going to run me down and eat me. Getting killed while trying to fight back seemed like an improvement.

  “Come on, you stinking gray bastards!” I screamed, veering left off the road and running towards the pond. “Come on, you want some lunch? Come and get me!”

  I sprinted into the pond, the black water splashing around my legs. Running barefoot through freezing water in a pond with a pebble-strewn bottom is not fun, but the terror gave me speed. I crossed the pond and scrambled up the shore on the far side, wet sand squishing between my toes.

  The anthrophages, now nine strong, raced into the pond after me, gaining with terrifying speed. By the time I turned around, they were already halfway across the pond, the black water foaming white around their talons, their tongues hanging over their fangs. It made them look like demented, twisted hyenas.

  Another few seconds and they would kill me.

  I summoned every last bit of magic I could draw, poured it into my will, and cast a spell. A globe of lightning the size of my head spun into existence over my outstretched hand, and it wobbled from my fingers. It was too powerful, too volatile, and I couldn’t control the thing. It missed every single one of the anthrophages.

  But that was all right, because it landed in the middle of the pond.

  There was a crackling snarl, and tiny fingers of blue-white lightning jumped across the surface of the water. The anthrophages went into wild, jerking dances as the water conducted the lightning into their flesh, warbling screams erupting from their fanged jaws

  I didn’t know if it would kill them, and I didn’t stay long enough to find out. I turned and ran back to the road, and once I reached it I sprinted as fast as I could, my wet skirt sawing against my thighs with every step. I might have stunned the anthrophages, but they would be back. Worse, they might have friends nearby, and their cries would have drawn them. Or more of those insect-things might wake up and come after me, though fear of the anthrophages had kept the others wrapped in their shiny boulder-forms.

  I ran like hell. I had spent a lot of time running on treadmills, pushing myself to go a little faster and a little further every time, and I drew on every single bit of that experience now. The walls of Grayhold loomed ahead, maybe two miles distant. If I could get to the crumbling fortress before the anthrophages reached me, I would be safe. They wouldn’t dare to confront the Knight’s power in his stronghold. Maybe even they wouldn’t dare to come this close to Grayhold, lest they draw the Knight’s attention…

  A gray blur moved in the hills ahead.

  An anthrophage, coming right at me.

  I skidded to a halt, raised my right hand, and cast a spell. Magic burst from me, and a wobbling globe of lightning leaped from my hand and caught the anthrophage in the misshapen face. The anthrophage’s head snapped back, and the creature lost its balance and fell, the back of its head bouncing off the smooth road with a loud crack.

  I kept running.

  “Take her!”

  The familiar, horrible voice filled my ears, and I saw a white shape bounding over the ruins upon a nearby hill. It was the fat anthrophage that had pursued me earlier, the creature the Knight had called an anthrophage elder. As I had suspected, its bulk did now slow it in the slightest. If anything, it was faster than its smaller minions.

  I tried to go faster.

  “Take her! The masters command it!” shrieked the anthrophage elder. “Take her and they shall reward us. Take her and we shall feast!”

  More gray shapes moved along the sides of the road, hemming me in. They were preparing to surround me, or to force me off the road where they could take me with ease. I started to summon power, preparing to cast the spell for a lightning globe.

  It was the only thing that saved my life.

  One of the anthrophages took a running leap, and I didn’t have time to dodge. The sinewy creature knocked me backwards, its clawed hands grasping my shoulders. The fanged mouth yawned wide to bite my head, its vile breath washing over me. I had pulled together the power for a lightning globe, and instead I worked a far simpler spell. As the anthrophage’s jaws opened to bite, I raised my palm and summoned fire. Morvilind could have summoned a simmering ball of flame, so hot it could melt steel. All I could manage was a wild cone of fire that erupted from my hand.

  Of course, the cone of fire engulfed the anthrophage’s head, so that was good enough. The creature reared back with a scream, raising its hands to cover its burning face. I yanked back my legs and kicked as Morvilind’s various tutors had taught me, driving both of my heels into the anthrophage’s left knee. That would have broken a human’s kneecap, but the anthrophage’s bones were too hard for that. Nevertheless, the impact knocked the anthrophage over, the creature clutching at its burning head.

  I rolled to my feet and kept running. Grayhold loomed up before me like a massive cliff, a thousand empty windows staring down at me. Just a little farther…

  Another anthrophage hit me, and I went down hard, the breath blasting from my lungs. I tried to get my right hand up to cast a spell, but a clawed hand seized my wrist and pinned it to the ground. The anthrophage grinned down at me, and I slapped my left hand against its chest, preparing another spell. The creature hissed and pushed my hand aside with iron strength. As it did, its hand slipped and brushed the left side of my chest.

  There was a sizzling sound, the smell of burned flesh, and the anthrophage jerked back with a scream, smoke rising from its charred fingers. For a moment confusion pushed through my terror. I hadn’t cast any spells. I hadn’t burned the anthrophage. I heaved myself backwards as the anthrophage clutched at its burned hand, my blazer falling open. My shredded blazer – the anthrophage’s claws had cut open the left side of my jacket, though its talons hadn’t reached my skin.

  But it had touched the Ringbyrne Amulet.

  I got to my feet, yanking the amulet from my pocket just as the burned anthrophage lunged at me with a scream. I swung the amulet on its chain like a big metal yo-yo, and it hit the anthrophage in the chest. I expected the amulet to bounce off, maybe to leave a bruise or a burn on the creature’s chest.

  Instead, the amulet ripped through the anthrophage’s chest like a red-hot blade, carving a smoking gash as wide as my hand. The anthrophage dropped to the road, twitching like a half-crushed bug. The amulet bounced against my hand, and I flinched, expecting it to be hot, but instead it felt cool to the touch.

  Whatever the Ringbyrne Amulet was, it didn’t seem fond of the anthrophages.

  I took a step back, intending to turn and run the final distance to the gates of Grayhold, and froze.

  The anthrophages had caught up to me.

  There were nearly a hundred of the damned creatures, and they spread out in a ring to surround me. Some of them wore the guise they used upon Earth, tall, gaunt men in crisp black suits and silken black ties. Others were in their natural forms, gaunt and gray with black claws and spines. The anthrophage elder smirked behind them, a bloated shape in its gleaming white suit.

  “Back off!” I shouted, waving the amulet before me. “Back off! Or I’m going to have myself an anthrophage roast!”

  The elder boo
med its hideous gurgling laugh. “My children are many, and you are but one! Such a chase you have led us on, my prey! We shall feast upon you, and one day we shall feast upon all the mortal world!” The ring of anthrophages edged closer, and I spun in a circle, waving the amulet before me. That scared them off, but it wouldn’t last for long. One could rush would bury me, and that would be that.

  “You want to take a bite of me?” I said. “Then come and get some, fat boy.” I shook the amulet at the elder. “I wonder if you’ll smell like bacon when you fry.”

  Again the anthrophage elder laughed. “Delay will not aid you. The lord of the demesne will not come to save you, not this time. You have failed in your trial, human animal. All that remains is to perish.”

  The anthrophages began edging closer, preparing to spring.

  I blinked.

  I had failed in my trial. But what did that mean? I assumed the trial had been surviving long enough to carry the amulet to Grayhold. But what if there was more to it? Rimethur had said the trial would determine if I was worthy to bear the amulet. I had assumed bearing the amulet simply meant carrying it.

  What if bearing the amulet meant something else?

  What if bearing the amulet meant using the amulet?

  I lifted the Ringbyrne Amulet, its edge digging into my fingers, and focused my will upon it as I would a spell. As I did, I felt…something in my thoughts, a presence. The amulet’s magical aura, I assumed. It seemed to be calling to me, asking me for something.

  The anthrophages charged at me, and I poured magical power into the amulet.

  The silvery disc shuddered, and the crystal in its center blazed with cold blue light. The light fell over the charging anthrophages, and the ones nearest to me burst into white flames, screaming horribly. A score of the creatures perished in a single heartbeat. The rest of the anthrophages stumbled back, avoiding the dome of light shining from the amulet. The elder bounded back, and for an instant fear made its face even more grotesque.

  I continued the flow of magical power into the amulet. It was about the same level of power needed for a Masking spell, and I could maintain that long enough to get to Grayhold.

  “Get out of my way,” I said.

  “You will not escape us!” screamed the elder. “We will follow you. We will hunt you to the ends of the Earth!” The creature laughed again. “You should thank us! When we devour you, it shall spare you from the grim fate that otherwise awaits you.”

  “Get out of my way,” I ground out, “or burn. Up to you.”

  I strode forward, and two of the anthrophages burned before they could get out of my way. The rest of them scattered, vanishing among the ruins and the hills. I glanced back and saw the elder staring at me, its yellow eyes glaring, its expression promising my death.

  A promise it would keep, perhaps…but not today.

  I kept walking, the glow from the Ringbyrne Amulet lighting my way.

  Chapter 11: Knight Games

  Sipad-Zid awaited me as I limped to the gates of Grayhold.

  The gates, like everything else about the huge fortress, were a study in ruined grandeur. It looked like a combination of a Roman triumphal arch, the gates of Babylon, and something a pompous Art Deco designer would have thought up. The Seneschal of Grayhold stood in the center of the gate as I walked to him on aching feet, his lips tight with disapproval as I approached.

  “Hi there,” I said. “I want to talk to your boss right now.”

  Sipad-Zid sneered. “You will not address the Seneschal of Grayhold in such a tone…”

  “Oh, shut up,” I said. My patience was gone. I was tired and frightened and angry, and I really wanted to hit somebody. “I’ve used the same tone with the Knight, and I’ll do it again. So be a good little Seneschal and take me to the Knight.”

  The Seneschal sighed. “Little wonder my lord has taken a liking to you. Your impudence reminds me of…”

  “Of what?”

  Sipad-Zid was silent for a moment. “Of better times. Very well. The lord of Grayhold awaits you.” He snapped his fingers, and white light swallowed the world.

  When it cleared, I found myself standing on a dais overlooking another vast, cavernous pillared hall. The hall seemed in better repair than the rest of Grayhold, and chunks of crystal hung from chains overhead, glowing with a gentle light. Hundreds of people moved through the hall, men and women in formal clothes from a variety of historical epochs, all of them dancing a slow, stately, formal dance as musicians played strange instruments in the corners.

  “My lord,” said the Seneschal, “the woman has returned.”

  “And with the Ringbyrne Amulet, no less,” said the Knight’s voice. “Well, Irina Novoranya, not many things can still surprise me, but you just did.”

  I turned as the Knight of Grayhold stepped towards me. Gone were the boots and jeans and camouflage jacket. Now he wore something that looked like the formal garb of a bygone era, black trousers, gleaming black boots, a crisp white shirt, a black coat that hung to his knees, and a piece of cloth too thick to be a proper tie wound around his collar. A cravat, maybe? Fashion isn’t exactly my area of expertise.

  “Well, that’s me,” I said. “I’m just full of surprises.”

  The Knight smiled a little at that. “Clearly.”

  “You’ll keep your word?” I said. “You’ll let Alexandra go? You’ll let me take the amulet?”

  “I am the Knight of Grayhold, and the Knight of Grayhold keeps his word,” said the Knight. “Seneschal. Please retrieve Mrs. Ross from the Hall of Attainder. She will be departing soon with Miss Novoranya.” The Seneschal bowed and vanished in a flash of white light.

  “So,” I said. “This is nice. Weird little ball in a ruined castle. Very ominous.”

  “I am the lord of Grayhold, and that includes obligations,” said the Knight. “It would surprise you to know that there are towns in the shadow of my towers. Exiles come to the Shadowlands from time to time, and gather in the demesne of one lord or another in hopes of protection.”

  “I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion,” I said.

  “As you said, your jewelry doesn’t quite match your shoes,” he said, holding out a hand. “I will need the bracelet back, I’m afraid.”

  I slid the sengejarme off my wrist and handed it to him. “Technically, it’s called a sengejarme, you know.”

  “Ah,” said the Knight, taking the bracelet. “I see you had a chat with Rimethur.”

  “Charming fellow,” I said. “Since we’re waiting for Alexandra, let me ask you a question.” The Knight inclined his head, rolling the bracelet between his fingers. “I didn’t have to listen to you. I didn’t have to come back to Grayhold. Rimethur might have set it up that way, but I could have eventually found a way around it. So what would you have done if I had run off with your bracelet and never come back?”

  The Knight’s smile held no humor. “Watch.”

  He lifted the bracelet, and it shivered in his hand. Part of the metal stabbed out in a three-inch long spike. I flinched. Had I been wearing the bracelet, the spike would have bisected my wrist.

  “The poison upon the blade would have killed you quickly, if not quite painlessly,” said the Knight, tucking the bracelet into a pocket of his coat. “Had you decided not to return for Mrs. Ross, the spell would have activated and slain you.”

  “Why?” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I had come close, so close, to abandoning Alexandra, little realizing that I held my life in my hands.

  “A test,” said the Knight. “I have no use for faithlessness. I told you this was an audition.”

  “For what?” I said.

  “To see if you are worthy to live to repay the favor you owe me,” said the Knight. “That was our agreement. You owe me a favor, and one day I shall collect. Not today. Not tomorrow. But someday.”

  I snorted. “You better do it soon, then. I might not live that long.”

  The Knight considered me for a long moment. “You
should beware of Morvilind.”

  “I know that better than you ever could,” I said.

  “He will kill you,” said the Knight.

  “He has certainly threatened to,” I said, trying to make my words breezy.

  “No,” said the Knight. “He will kill you. Once you have accomplished whatever task he has set out for you. Once he no longer has any need of you, he will kill you without hesitation.”

  “I know,” I said.

  Six more years. I had to survive for six more years. I had no doubt that Morvilind was just as ruthless as the Knight said, but like the Knight, Morvilind kept his word. He had said he would cure Russell, and once Russell was cured, he would turn on me.

  I just had to be ready.

  “Dance with me,” said the Knight.

  The change of topic threw me. “What?”

  The Knight held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

  “My clothes are a mess and I don’t have any shoes,” I said.

  “Irrelevant,” said the Knight. “Dance with me.”

  I gave him a suspicious look. “Why?”

  “Because we need to kill some time before Sipad-Zid releases Mrs. Ross,” said the Knight. “Because I will tell you a secret and give you a gift.” He grinned. “Because you are a pretty girl and I want to dance with you.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” I said, but I took his hand. It felt hard and warm and very strong. “I lost my shoes in your damned swamp. If you step on my feet, I’m going to be angry.”

  “I am a very good dancer,” said the Knight.

  He was. We moved quickly along the dais, circling each other in time to the music. His armored hand rested against my hip, the chill of the metal soaking through my wet skirt.

  “We’re not going to do anything but dancing, though,” I said. “Just so we’re clear on that.”

  “Of course not,” said the Knight, affronted. “I am a gentleman. You should beware of the Rebels.”

  “Is that your secret?” I said. “Rimethur already told me that you worked with him to screw over the Rebels.”