by Jak Koke
Talon pushed his head up into the front. “There’s a magic barrier of some sort surrounding the island,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Ryan shifted his perception to the astral, and looked at the island. He could make out a translucent haze dome around the chateau. “It looks somewhat like the veil around Tír na nÓg,” he said. “We’re expected. We should be able to pass through.”
Talon gave him a doubting look.
“You hope,” he said. “You disagree?”
“I just don’t share your level of confidence.”
Dhin gave a harsh laugh. “Well, chummers, either way, we’re almost to the island.”
Ryan felt a slight lurch as they passed through the astral barrier and swung up over the rim of the island’s wall. He surveyed the structure as Dhin brought the chopper into a low hover, preparing to drop onto the wide flagstone piazza. Ryan saw the narrow wooden dock, jutting like a toothpick from the far edge of the island. The sleek form of a yacht was moored to it—a Harland and Wolff Classique, very expensive and luxurious.
Axler and Grind would be under the dock by now, waiting to disable the boat in case Plan Beta was activated. Ryan touched the Dragon Heart at his waist and hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
As the helo’s runners touched the flagstones, Ryan saw a woman in a summer dress of mauve cotton. She stood quite tall for a human, with flowing white hair that cascaded down her back.
Ryan gave her aura a once-over as he stepped out of the helicopter with Talon just behind. She’s not a human, he realized, but an elf, and more than likely a mage. She was masking her aura, but with the help of the Dragon Heart, Ryan could see through it.
She stepped up to meet them, extending her hand. “My name’s Jane Foster,” she said, yelling above the scream of the blades.
Ryan noticed an ornate ring on her finger, platinum in the shape of a coiled dragon. “I’m Ryan Mercury,” he said, shaking her hand. “And this is Nolan Falcor.” Ryan motioned toward Talon. “We’ve brought the package from the Draco Foundation.”
Foster nodded. “Please tell your pilot to shut down and step out of the helicopter.”
At the command, Ryan’s awareness grew hypersensitive as he turned and signaled to Dhin. He subvocalized, “Cut the engines and show your handsome face to the lady.” When Dhin was out of the helicopter, Foster gave Ryan a smile. “Thank you, Mister Mercury. Now if you’ll show me the suit of armor and your authentication papers.”
“Certainly,” Ryan said. “Is Mister Harlequin here? He has to sign the papers.”
Foster threw her head back in laughter. “Mister Harlequin,” she said. “That’s a good one.”
Ryan opened the side door of the helicopter to reveal the three wooden crates that held the suit of armor. Then he pulled a suitcase from under one of the seats. “Regardless of what he likes to be called, I need a signature.”
“I can sign,” said Foster.
“I’m afraid not.”
Foster gave Ryan an icy stare. “Harlequin will not want to be disturbed with this,” she said. “I will sign for him.”
“That’s simply not acceptable. Besides, I have other business with him.”
“Concerning what?”
“It’s a private matter.”
Foster froze him with that stare again. “Just who do you think you are, Mister Mercury?” Then she was stepping away from him and examining his aura, no doubt trying to figure out what his abilities were. He had masked the Dragon Heart, but he wasn’t sure if it could hold up under scrutiny.
“I am perhaps more than I appear to be,” he said. “But my mission here is simple. I agreed to deliver the armor to the elf mage, Harlequin, as per Nadja Daviar’s instructions. Plus I have another errand, given to me by Dunkelzahn, but I can speak of it only with Harlequin.”
Foster backed away until she reached the narrow archway that led to the main castle. Her face was a mask of anger. “Harlequin was not expecting you,” she said. “I shall have to prepare—”
Talon’s shout seemed to come from far away. “She’s casting!”
Ryan yawned suddenly, and watched as Dhin and Talon dropped to the ground next to him. Sleep and fatigue clawed at his consciousness, desperate to drag him under.
In his disorientation, a force slammed into him—a mana bolt that stung through his body. The impact snapped him out of the effects of the sleep spell.
Ryan’s awareness returned, and he focused on his magic. He felt the power of the Silent Way come to him and his outline blurred. He masked his physical appearance, using his stealth magic to become harder to see as he bolted toward Foster. He crossed the distance between them in seconds, taking the elf by surprise. He brought the power of the Dragon Heart to bear and hit her with a telekinetic strike, right in the chest.
The blow never hit, impacting instead on her magical barrier and dissipating. But it disrupted the barrier; the next strike would land home without interference. Ryan didn’t think that he’d need another distance strike; he was already on top of her.
A spirit manifested in front of him as he sprang toward Foster, ready to hit. that cluster of nerves that would drop her into unconsciousness. The spirit burned itself into existence, a molten shape, like living lava, burning with incredible heat that seared Ryan’s flesh.
Frag me!
“Be gone, elemental!” Ryan yelled, channeling his vehemence toward the spirit. At the same time, he pummeled the creature with his fists. It slotted him off that he was giving Foster more time to cast another spell.
Suddenly the spirit was gone, disrupted from the impact of his attacks, and Ryan stood face to face with Foster. Tiny droplets of sweat prickled on her immaculate forehead, but she seemed frozen. Her mouth set in an unmoving scowl.
Ryan tried to lunge for her; he wanted to complete his nerve cluster strike before she could get her spell off. But his legs wouldn’t respond, and a heavy weight grew in his chest as he tried to move. He, too, was frozen.
“Children, children,” came a voice. “You will kiss and make up, or I will be forced to punish you.”
Suddenly the pressure abated and Ryan fell to his knees, gasping for air. He was marginally satisfied to discover that Foster was in the same condition. He focused himself quickly and leaped to his feet.
The elf walking toward him could be none other than Harlequin. Despite the heat, he was dressed all in black—jeans and leather jacket. His auburn hair was nearly the same color as Ryan’s, though the elf’s was much longer and pulled back against his head in a ponytail. His face was painted clown white with red diamonds over both eyes, which themselves sparkled green in the sunlight.
In the astral, Harlequin’s aura was unmasked and frightening. What have I gotten myself into? Ryan thought. This elf’s power is immense.
“Harlequin,” Ryan said. “I am Ryan Mercury, and it is imperative that I speak with you.”
The elf laughed. “Ryan Mercury? No wonder you bested Frosty here.”
“He did not best me,” Foster said.
Harlequin gave her a condescending smile. “I stand corrected. He was about to best you.” He laughed again.
She gave him a withering glare, then turned to Ryan. “My apologies, Mister Mercury. I was instructed to incapacitate you if anything out of the ordinary occurred. When you insisted on seeing Harlequin and started going on about Dunkelzahn, I judged you a threat. It was his idea.” She pointed to Harlequin as she stood. “Not mine.”
“I had to test you against a real security force,” Harlequin said to Foster. “And if Mister Mercury hadn’t been along, you’d have handled them well enough.”
Harlequin turned to Ryan. “I must admit I’m impressed. Even after all I’ve heard about you—trained by Dunkelzahn himself and all that—I never expected the banishment.”
“What?"
“You banished that fire elemental, my friend.” Harlequin chuckled. “Frag, you don’t even know what you can do.”
“
I can’t banish elementals,” Ryan said. “I simply disrupted it with the force of my blows.”
“If you say so,” Harlequin said, then his tone changed. “Now, tell me why you are here.”
Ryan nodded. Here goes, he thought. If he decides he wants the Dragon Heart, I’ll have to run for it. Ryan doubted he could put up much resistance to the mage, but he would try.
“Dunkelzahn gave this to me,” Ryan said, as he pulled the Dragon Heart from its pouch at his waist. The orichaicum artifact glowed bright yellow in the sun. “With instructions to give it to Thayla so that she could prevent the Enemy from crossing over.”
Harlequin drew close. “Let’s go inside to discuss this. I’d like a closer look.”
“Certainly,” Ryan said. “But I can’t just leave my team stunned and unconscious on the ground.”
“Frosty will attend to them,” Harlequin said. It was a statement of fact. An order to comply with his instructions, not subject to debate by either Ryan or Foster.
Ryan nodded.
Foster groaned.
“Let me know when everyone’s awake, and you have unloaded the armor,” Harlequin said.
Foster snorted. “Yes, your highness.”
Harlequin laughed. Then to Ryan, “You’ll have to remove your communication headgear.”
Ryan considered objecting, but decided against it. This elf's cooperation was crucial to the success of his mission. He had no choice. He pulled the tacticom out of his ear, and peeled the mic from his throat, then nodded to Harlequin.
Ryan followed the elf through the archway and into the ancient prison, passing into a broad courtyard, complete with French gardens, sculptured hedges, immaculately trimmed trees, and a variety of blooming flowers. The rich fragrance of roses filled the air.
Harlequin led Ryan along the central flagstone path and through a set of huge wooden doors, recently varnished, but scarred and ancient-looking. Just inside was a verandah with a high arched ceiling, stone walls covered with tapestries. Pristine suits of armor and medieval weapons from a wide variety of cultures were displayed on either side of the hall as they walked through.
The verandah led to a huge central room that used to be an interior courtyard, but was now covered with a macroglass ceiling three stories up. Balconies on each level gave a view of the room, which was furnished with ornate wooden Renaissance chairs and tables. A massive hearth dominated one end of the room, though no fire burned in it.
Harlequin led Ryan up onto the raised parquet flooring, around what looked like a study area dominated by a massive cherrywood desk and a small cyberdeck, and over to the hearth. Harlequin indicated that Ryan should take a seat in one of the Louis XIV chairs.
“Talk,” Harlequin said as he returned, sitting in the opposite chair. “I’m listening.”
Ryan nodded. “Let me tell you a story,” he began. And Ryan did. For better or worse, he unfolded the story of his quest to Harlequin. He opened himself up to this elf. He explained about his mission to Aztlan, about discovering the Locus, reporting it to Dunkelzahn just before getting caught.
Ryan brushed over his experience with Thomas Roxborough’s personality transfer, skimming to his escape from Aztlan, his discovery that Dunkelzahn was dead, that his new mission required him to take the Dragon Heart to Thayla. Dunkelzahn thought Thayla was vulnerable, that she needed the Heart to stop the Enemy.
Ryan went on to tell how the Dragon Heart was stolen by the Atlantean Foundation. He told of how he had met the spirit Lethe and how they had regained the Heart. He recounted the events of the past weeks to Harlequin, mentioning the cyberzombie Burnout and how he had taken the Heart from Ryan.
“I have just recovered the Dragon Heart and so I come to you as Dunkelzahn advised,” Ryan said. “I come seeking your help.”
Harlequin listened to Ryan’s story, total attention on his painted face, forefingers steepled over his mouth. Then he was silent for a long moment, thinking.
“First of all,” he said. “I was responsible for putting Thayla at the bridge. Me and some others. But when Dunkelzahn learned of it, he came to me here, extremely pissed . . . er, slotted off, as you say now.
“Fragging dragon nearly forced a showdown. Made me angry that he didn’t appreciate what I had done.” Harlequin stared at Ryan with an intensity Ryan had never seen. A look that chilled his core. “I had saved the world from the ... the .. . Enemy. You think I wanted to? You think I volunteered to be a fucking hero?”
Harlequin stood up and began pacing in a wide circle. “But I did it anyway. I knew no one else would. And I succeeded! I accomplished a stalemate.” The elf heaved a deep breath. “Then Dunkelzahn comes to me and rants about my incompetence. Trying to tell me that Thayla is vulnerable, that her song had been breached before and it would be again.
“Dunkelzahn told me that he suspected Aztechnology was creating an elaborate map of their astral space. Connecting the auras of all their teocalli so that they could measure changes in mana across their entire country. He thought they were doing this in search of something. Something they obviously found. A Mel’thelem—a Locus.”
“What exactly is a Locus?”
Harlequin shot a hard look at Ryan. “It’s best not to ask too many questions,” he said.
Ryan bristled. Harlequin might be powerful and most unusual for an elf, but he still had that arrogant attitude that made Ryan want to slap him. “I’m Dunkelzahn’s operative,” he said. “I know all about the cycles of magic and that drek. Just tell me.”
Harlequin smiled. “All I can tell you is that the Mel'thelem are now part of the Sixth World as they were of the Fourth. They were created long ago to be magical reservoirs, like batteries that have now gone dead during the low mana. But if activated, they can be used to store, enhance, and focus magical power on a massive scale.”
“In the wrong hands—”
“They could mean disaster,” Harlequin interrupted. “Dunkelzahn tried to warn us, me and others, but we did not act quickly enough. We never suspected that they would find one so soon.” A sad look crossed Harlequin’s face. “Because of this, Dunkelzahn and I parted in anger,” he said. “And that was the last I saw of the old wyrm.”
“When was that?” Ryan asked.
“About a week before the assassination.” Harlequin gave Ryan a queer glance. “No, I didn’t kill him if that’s what you’re thinking. Oh, I’ve wanted to several times over the years, in flashes of anger. And this last time, when he challenged my methods of stopping the Enemy, implying that I took the easy way out. Believe me, I was supremely pissed at him. But even if I’d actually had the guts to try to kill him, I could never have pulled it off alone. I’m not strong enough.”
Harlequin sighed. “But I didn’t try. Because when you strip away all the layers of jockeying and posturing, all the painted faces and illusions—” he raked his nails over his make-up, gouging it away in lines—“underneath it all, we were after the same thing. We were friends.”
He sounds sincere, Ryan thought. Either he telling the truth, or he’s the most convincing liar I’ve ever met.
“Now,” Harlequin said, “let me have a look at this Dragon Heart of yours.”
Ryan shivered and clamped down on his trepidation. He slowly lifted the Dragon Heart and held it out to the elf.
10
Lucero steadied herself, trying to remain focused as she stood in the wedge of darkness on the cracked outcropping of rock. She took shallow breaths, wincing at the stench of bloody corpses. She strained to hear the song, widened her eyes in the direction of the light.
I must not succumb completely, she thought. I cannot let the darkness control my thoughts.
The light filtered dimly through the barrier of blood and corpses, into the stained wedge. And as she moved toward the edge of the stain, Señor Oscuro’s forces advanced beside her. Decapitated corpses and crawling spider creatures and fat, toad-like monsters that dripped with slime.
Oscuro himself stood behind his troop
s, sacrificing acolyte after acolyte and spraying the fresh blood over his creatures like a protective coating. Armor against the light.
The first wave slammed into the barrier of beauty and music, disappearing in a flash. Screams of agony ripped through the dark sky as the creatures disintegrated. But when they were gone, Lucero noticed that the darkness had advanced several meters.
He’s slowly extinguishing the light. Soon the song will be silenced.
I can't let that happen. The light is my only salvation.
Lucero remembered a time before. A time when the light penetrated her heart completely and nearly erased her desire for the blood power. She remembered the instant of elation she had felt, the sensation that her own inner beauty had returned once again.
How she longed for that sensation. She would give up the blood addiction for it. She would give up anything for it.
Lucero crept slowly toward the light, watching it grow brighter and brighter. Hearing the aching beauty of the song in her heart. Just a few more steps, and she’d belong to the light again.
Lucero breathed slowly, feeling the anticipation. Her salvation neared step by little step as she moved. Oscuro could bleed himself dry and she wouldn’t stop now.
Almost there.
“Lucero, my child.” His voice blew across the short distance between them like a chill wind, freezing her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
11
Ryan leaned forward in the Louis XIV chair and handed the Dragon Heart to Harlequin. Ryan felt naked without his tacticom gear, isolated without his connection to Jane and the others. This was his show now, and his actions alone would make or break his mission.
I must convince Harlequin to help me.
The Dragon Heart felt heavy in his hands as he passed it into those of the painted elf. It was as though it were reluctant to part from Ryan. Or perhaps he imagined it.
Harlequin’s hands looked delicate as he took the Heart, but their appearance belied a hidden strength. Ryan knew that Harlequin had the ability to mask his aura, to disguise the extent of his power and mastery of magic and other things. The elf seemed to have dispensed with masking, however, because what Ryan saw as he used his astral perception to look at Harlequin was a complex and nearly incomprehensible creature.
