“Report,” I grunted at the on-duty officer who commanded the night shift. I couldn’t remember his name. He had been reassigned after I had sustained significant losses in New York. At first I had tried to remember names and faces, but it quickly proved too difficult. Too many faces and too many names – it was impossible.
“Nothing to report,” he immediately replied.
“No movement from New Haven?” I queried. I had expected something to come from that battle at least.
“The scouts we left behind reported in as per regulation. No movement.”
This was frustrating. I had hoped that a battle would bring more interest and perhaps flush free my quarry. It seemed I would need to up the ante. That could wait for tomorrow though - there was no sense doing anything in the middle of the night. The clock informed me it was well past midnight.
“It seems that we’ve cleaned them out then,” I murmured softly. I hadn’t expected the soldier to hear me, but he nodded in agreement.
Wishful thinking. This wasn’t how this would work. We were still trying to fight a conventional war. The problem was we were fighting against a very unconventional foe. Command insisted that we sweep through sector by sector, nullifying any resistance before we moved on. Once a section was clear we would move onto the next. They didn’t understand what they were doing. Our enemies had no idea of the various sectors or theatres of war. They didn’t care. All we were doing was removing the norms that had been swept up in the wake of a mage fight. It was a stupid strategy, but I couldn’t think of a better one.
“Inform Command,” I ordered as I left the room.
Command would probably reassign us. I hoped our new accommodation was as functional as this bunker. I wouldn’t miss this place when I left, but it had been comfortable. I had stayed in worse. I vaguely wondered what had happened to the original contents of this bunker. The signs were all over the compound. This had once been a nuclear silo. I assumed it had been decommissioned before the war. When we had arrived here it had the bolted down look of a structure that hadn’t been used in decades.
I made my way back to my quarters and glanced briefly at the bottle of American whiskey at the table. I didn’t really like American whiskey. It was too sweet, but anything was better than trying to sleep. I took a look at my unkempt bed and pulled a chair up. They say you shouldn’t drink alone, but I didn’t much care for company when I drank. It wasn’t that I was trying to drink away my pain or forget my troubles. I didn’t drink to remember the past or old friends. No, I simply drank because it was better than sleeping. Passing out in a haze of alcohol fuelled nausea helped me sleep without my subconscious dredging up the past.
A polite cough alerted me to an intruder. I must have been tired -I hadn’t noticed anyone. The shock of the noise almost caused me to rise to my feet and ready my defences. The Mana flared in my body in response to the threat, but I quickly realised that a threat wouldn’t have coughed to let me know that they were there. Marcellus was at the door.
“I heard you were back,” he grunted by way of greeting.
Although I didn’t much like drinking with company, I was willing to make the odd exception from time to time. Marcellus was one of the few I would make an exception for. I gestured towards the chair on the other side of the table. Marcellus grabbed a glass and sat, pouring himself a drink.
“There has still been no activity from New Haven,” Marcellus grunted, then finished his drink in a single motion. He grimaced as he glanced at the bottle label briefly before scowling.
“It’s all I could find,” I muttered by way of apology.
“You look like shit,” Marcellus said, pouring himself a glass, “like you haven’t slept in a week.”
I shrugged.
“You should get some sleep,” Marcellus said as he polished off another glass. I glanced briefly at the bottle. It was just under half full. I doubted that would be enough, but I wasn’t going to complain. I could acquire more.
“So should you,” I replied glibly. I reached for the bottle and poured myself another.
Marcellus raised his own in my direction in a mock salute. “To Sanchez,” he toasted sombrely, gulping it in one swallow.
“Sanchez is dead?” I murmured, surprised.
Sanchez had been with us since almost the start. There were very few original members remaining.
“Yeah, he was killed in the bombing,” Marcellus whispered. “It makes no sense. I don’t see why they went on the attack – they must have known what would happen.”
I had thought along the same lines. Something had changed and not necessarily for the better. Was this new tactic an indication of new leadership? Or did it mean something else? The bombing attack on me was a sign of desperation – they must have known it wouldn’t have worked. They had attempted to kill me, but instead only managed to kill those around me. I took a deep breath. I could have prevented it, but I had chosen otherwise. I wondered if I had made the right choice. I wondered if there was even a right choice to make.
“I didn’t know about Sanchez,” I sighed. I hadn’t touched my drink.
Marcellus’s eyes hardened. “I know.”
That explained why Marcellus was here. It had become a small tradition between us as members of the old crew died.
“How many of us are left?”
“Four,” Marcellus grunted. “You, me, Cameron and Morre.”
I nodded sombrely as I sipped my drink. I didn’t feel much like drinking anymore. I may not remember the names of the replacements for my team, but I remembered my first command. I remembered as each of them died and how powerless I had been to prevent it. Even with all my power, I couldn’t save everyone. This was a war – people die. I had stopped even trying.
“Maybe one day, you’ll be toasting me,” Marcellus murmured darkly, his façade slipping slightly to reveal the anger simmering underneath.
He blamed me for Sanchez’s death and I didn’t blame him. After all, I was responsible. I had allowed it to happen. I may as well have been the one to pull the trigger that ended his life.
“You never know,” I grunted, “You could outlive me yet.”
I didn’t finish my drink.
CHAPTER THREE
Our scouts didn’t report in the next morning. This could mean a variety of things, but it most likely meant that they had run into a mage. It would have taken an overwhelming force to prevent them from returning home.
My scry threads had been unsuccessful in finding them, but there was a large area of land to cover and it was possible they had simply hunkered down to hide. The firestorm was also playing havoc with my scry thread. There was too much Mana still in the air and it was like trying to see through static. Ironically enough, if someone had wanted to hide a mage in the region, they couldn’t have done it any better this side of a Shading spell. A mage uses a Shading spell when they don’t want someone seeing what they are doing. It throws up magical noise making it difficult to see Mana. When you try to look, all you see is the static from the Shading spell. This was like that, only not as bad. However, Shading spells throw up so much noise they are impossible to ignore. It’s not like some stealth spell that would allow you to work in the dark. I didn’t much like them. I didn’t like something that interfered with my ability to see Mana.
No, there was nothing for it. We would need to go in with a small team. I wasn’t going to risk the whole contingent on this. Obviously I had made a mistake last time, coming in so aggressively, and had missed something. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. It was time to change tactics.
The plan was simple: we would take a single truck with a small team, no more than twelve soldiers, and go in under the cover of night. Hopefully we could catch our quarry unawares and close the trap before they even knew what was happening. The trick would be that I would need to appear to be human and not a mage.
The techniques for suppressing one’s Mana signature were crude but effective – through a scry spell I w
ould appear no different from the rest of the soldiers around me. The drawback was that while I was suppressing my powers I wouldn’t be able to use them. This would make mobility a problem – a serious problem. I could move my legs if I needed to, but I doubted I’d be able to walk. I’d never tried since the hospital, but I knew how weak my body was. This wasn’t going to be fun, but I would deal with that when the time came.
“I’m going to need you to come with me on this one,” I murmured to Marcellus as he and his team finished loading the truck.
I saw from the raised eyebrow that he didn’t understand I’d had to select my small team very carefully. I would normally leave Marcellus in command of the contingent when I went into the field; however, this time I selected a more junior officer. I needed someone I could trust explicitly and I trusted Marcellus far more than anyone else in the regiment.
“You’re travelling with us?” Marcellus commented as I jumped into the passenger seat.
I didn’t bother answering, but simply gestured towards the driver’s seat. I could hear from the noises behind me that the rest of the team was getting into place in the back of the truck. A knock on the wall let us know that everyone was ready to go.
I used to love long car rides as a boy, but I detested them now. It seemed like a waste of time. After all with a merest flick of mana I could teleport myself to the destination in the same time that I could have entered the car. There was also the small fact that I was now sitting in a vehicle that was under someone else’s control. I’d never been a particularly skilled driver, but I had been an even worse passenger. I was sure that should my feet still work properly I would have been pressing onto the base of the floor in the passenger seat to indicate when I thought the brake should be used. It was also strange being in an American car. I was used to the driver’s controls being on this side. The whole feel of the car seemed different, had we not been driving on the centre of the road I was sure that would have irritated me as well. These distractions were good though – it allowed me to focus on something other than the suppression techniques that I was employing to nullify my mana signature and appear human. These techniques were uncomfortable to perform, and if performed for long enough could become downright painful. It began with a small headache in the base of your skull. It wasn’t painful as such it was like that moment where you think ‘hey I’m getting a headache’ and hope that it doesn’t get any more severe. I knew that it was going to get worse though, but I didn’t want to focus on that. I knew that from experience – focus on the pain and you will find that you won’t be able to bear it. No, this was okay. I could deal with this. I focused out the window.
The landscape on the northern American continent is beautiful. We were far from any cities and the land looked almost untouched by our war. Sure, there were signs every now and then of our conflict - burned out cars and crater pocked ground - but these were few and far between. However, we would soon reach the perimeter of the firestorm and then it would look far different.
“Sir, may I ask a question?” Marcellus broke into my distraction.
“Sure,” I replied, turning to face him.
He stopped and stared at me for several seconds. I could see his face twisted in shock.
“What is it?” I barked after several seconds of awkward silence.
“Your eyes,” he began. “They’re normal.”
I smiled wryly. “Ask your question.”
It took Marcellus several seconds to compose himself before he could talk. My eyes must have really freaked him out. It was odd; normally it was our expanded irises that freaked people out. It wasn’t surprising though – due to the Mana construct for my injury, I was always using Mana and therefore would look strange with normal eyes. This was one of the reasons I had selected Marcellus. I didn’t want anyone else in the team to see me so weakened. The team needed to trust that I could protect them – they didn’t need to see me looking human.
“Nevermind,” Marcellus grunted. “I think I just figured out why you wanted me specifically.”
I nodded with a grin and placed my sunglasses on. Marcellus was a smart man and I knew I didn’t have to explain it any further to him. I had first met him before the war. When Killian and his cronies had swept through Europe, many soldiers had been displaced and fled across the Atlantic. Marcellus was French born, but ended up serving in an American unit, but then again I was Australian and I was de facto leading it – so I guess it wasn’t that odd. I didn’t much care for his nationality, but he could be trusted to perform his duties well and that was enough for me.
I heard Marcellus’s whistle as we approached the edge of the firestorm. It looked like the surface of another planet. Everything was covered in black ash for miles.
“Holy shit,” he whispered as he surveyed the destruction around him.
Fortunately the road was cleared of the worst of it and was still traversable. The first teams that had come in after the fight had to spend several hours clearing the road. A snowplough would have been ideal at making a path, but of course, being this far remote from snow fields, such a device was unlikely to be found. In the end they had made a makeshift plough with two pieces of corrugated tin welded to the front of a truck. The same truck we were sitting in now. It worked perfectly. There was nothing more tangible than ash in the debris - everything had been burned thoroughly. There were no shreds of wood or other wreckage in the mess. The Mana fire had done its job well. It would be a long time before the ground recovered.
I ordered Marcellus to continue on to New Haven, although I knew there wasn’t much left there. Some of the stone work and concrete structures had survived the conflagration. It hadn’t been much but enough to ensure there were some survivors. I didn’t particularly want to return to the ruins, and it wasn’t until three quarters of the way through the ash field that I realised that I wouldn’t have to.
With my powers suppressed I didn’t have the full scope of my sensing abilities, but I knew when I was being scryed upon. The tell-tale prickling of the skin on the back of my neck alerted me to the presence of Mana in my direct vicinity. It took everything I had to keep my powers hidden as I expanded my irises. I breathed in and pretended to yawn as I analysed the scry thread inspecting us. Fortunately with my sunglasses on, they wouldn’t immediately see my expanded irises, unless they were really interested in me. Without my Mana, I wouldn’t look any different to the rest of the soldiers under my command. I had no way of knowing if an attack was imminent or if they were simply doing routine surveillance - either way I was ready. It was fortunate we were in the ash field, with the static Mana noise in the background making it difficult to identify specifics of the scry thread, but it also would make it more difficult to see what was going on around us. The scry thread followed us for some time – they were awfully interested in us.
They must have determined we were heading to the ruins of New Haven; the thread retracted and the Mana returned to its originator. Again I was grateful for the Mana static, which gave me more of a chance to follow the thread without being detected. I didn’t need to get close, I just needed to see where they were operating from. As expected, the scry thread trail didn’t lead me back to New Haven. There was nothing left there.
Instead it took me to an industrial complex about three kilometres further east. Being mostly concrete buildings, it had survived the inferno better than most. It was possible our target had moved operations here after New Haven fell, but I doubted it because anyone who survived New Haven was now in our custody - and none of them looked like insurgents or enemy troops.
I didn’t get close enough to the complex to linger. The thread ended there, our target was there, and that was good enough for me. As I passed over the complex, a strange sense of unease hit me. There was a very strange Mana signature coming from the complex. I hadn’t felt anything like this before and that meant it was dangerous.
This was a dilemma. Do I go in now, or do I send in the troops? It was possible that whateve
r was in there was a trap specifically for me. In the end it didn’t matter much, I had to go. I was never going to get a better shot at this.
“I’m going in,” I whispered to Marcellus. I gave him directions to the complex, and vaguely heard him give his confirmation. I then raised the necessary power to teleport and felt the familiar pressure from the Mana construct wrap around my lower body. I wasn’t going to teleport directly into the complex; the Mana signature I had felt could have interfered with the jump and I deemed it too dangerous to try. With a soft exhale, I teleported.
* * * * * *
My arrival in the complex didn’t seem to be noticed; there didn’t appear to be any security guards or watch points. This was unusual. I glanced around expecting to hear shouting or rifle fire, but there was nothing. It was unsettling. Now that I was closer, the strange Mana frequency I had sensed through my scry spell was almost overbearing. Not a threat, but it definitely felt dangerous. Kind of like standing next to a live wire; it wasn’t a weapon designed to kill you, but if you weren’t careful it would achieve the same end.
The complex was made up of three main buildings and what appeared to be a burned-out office structure to the front. The largest building was where I sensed the Mana coming from, of all three buildings it had survived the fire that had passed the most intact. That seemed like the best place to start.
With a shiver I reinforced the shield around myself and sent out a thread that would tear the large loading bay doors from their hinges and send them exploding inwards. I then leapt in through the newly made gap to deal with anyone who was inside. This seemed as good a way as any to introduce myself to the inhabitants.
It seemed to have worked as it took several seconds before gunfire was turned on me. I landed in the centre of what had obviously been a staging ground. I swept the soldiers from their feet with a contemptuous sweep of Mana as I inspected the building. It wasn’t what I had expected. On the far side I could make out Russian tanks, but they weren’t the most dangerous thing in the room. At the other end was the thing making all the damned Mana noise I had sensed. It was a four-by-four metre vertical plane of energy. It shimmered with a pinkish-red light that pulsated across everything and put out a small crackling noise. I’d never seen anything like it before, but I knew it for what it was. It was a rift.
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