Shadowmancer (The Circle Book 1)

by Lee Isserow

  “--Fluids? Grammy never said nothing about fluids...”

  “It's rarely an issue, especially with anything other than blood.”

  “She mentioned that... turning people into blood puppets.”

  “Mm,” Tali said, mouth too full to respond any clearer.

  “But with... urine, or semen or tears or whatever?”

  “There's a hierarchy, of which body bits have the most power. Like, you need less blood than you'd need of, say, sweat to manipulate a magickian.”

  “That's insane.”

  “Everything about this is insane... But as long as you keep most of your fluids inside your body, and those that are expelled are depersonalised with a quick sigil, it doesn't matter much.”

  “I hate this, all of this...”

  “Everyone does at first.”

  “Kanta seems to love it.”

  “You might have noticed that she's a bookworm, teacher's pet. She'd love a spanking if you told her it would mean she was the best at being spanked...”

  Jules couldn't help but laugh. Even though he had barely exchanged words with Kanta, he could see that as being true. The laugh didn't last long. Their chit chat was a distraction, neither of them wanted to talk about the actual subject they had convened to speak of. “So come on,” he said, forcing the words out from his lips. “Ruin my childhood, what the hell did Shaman do to be persona non grata?”

  “Well...” Tali said, pushing her plate away, and wiping her mouth with a napkin whilst she tried to find the best way to put it. “There was this god, small-g god, from the outer realms that tried to cross over.” She chewed on her lip as she tried to recall his name. “Thogaloth? Grogpogalopth? Something like that, they all have names that are essentially impossible for a human tongue to get around... Shay – pretty much everyone called him Shay – even though he didn't like the abbreviation –“

  “-- It wasn't his title? I thought shaman was a title, like Father or Rabbi?”

  Tali stifled a giggle. “Ha! He wasn't an actual Shaman, he just liked it as a name. He was old, probably older than the use of Shaman as a job description. If anything, it probably evolved from him calling himself 'Shaman'.”

  “I will never get to the end of the things I don't know about this world of magick, will I?”

  “Probably not... anyway, world in peril, every single magickian around the world was called to arms to stop the crossing from the outer realms, it tried to come through six times; under the sea, above New York, at the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, and every time we fought it back.”

  “How have I never heard of this?”

  “We're pretty good at covering our tracks. Isn't that obvious? The Circle's been around for thousands upon thousands of years and the mundanes are none the wiser...”

  “Yeah I guess. So, six times the Circle stopped this god...”

  “Until the seventh time, In the Nevada desert, where every magickian from around the world assembled to fight the thing back, and did so for ten whole days, including four massive explosions that we convinced the world to write off as nuclear testing... and finally it was cast it back into the abyss.” Her eyes dropped, and once again her teeth found a fleshy piece of lip to chew on. “It wasn't until the dust had settled that anyone noticed that Shaman hadn't been amongst them... He had absconded, ransacked the archive for all manner of artefacts of power.” A gentle sigh left her lips. Jules read it as disappointment, but not just disappointment. There was something in her eyes that read like she was missing him, her old friend. “Since then, he's been considered a rogue agent. Orders to take him down if anyone sees him... shoot on sight and what have you. Not that I reckon that'd do much good...”

  “That's just turned my entire childhood on its head.”

  “Ain't it a kicker? I used to look up to him too. Used to think him a friend, same with Faith, Comstock, pretty much everyone...” Her gaze met his. She could see the look of devastation hanging on his face as he processed the idea of his boyhood hero as some kind of traitor. With a polite smile, and no words, she excused herself to the bathroom.

  Jules couldn't imagine it. Shaman Kahgo, the most powerful magickian in all the lands, hero of a thousand stories, letting thousands die just so he could amass more power. But that's the thing, he reminded himself, that's always the way it goes... power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely.

  “That's what I always told 'ya...” said a familiar voice, not from next to, opposite or behind him, but from down in front of him. There, on the plate, the remnants of salad Tali had been picking at had arranged themselves into a face. A face, that was talking to him.

  He sighed, and reluctantly made eye contact with olive irises sitting on lettuce leaf circles. “Have I mentioned how much I really, truly hate magickians?”

  21

  Choose to believe

  “Oh hush. How y'doing boy?” the salad face asked, with its lips of gherkins, stray slivers of onion as eyelids blinking over the eyes, above them a wild hairline made from grated carrot and beetroot.

  “Hey Grammy,” he said, with a sigh. He'd recognise her anywhere, even with her face represented by leftovers. “I'm fine. But this feels unsanitary.”

  “Oh hush.”

  “You always told me not to play with my food...”

  “Didn't say nothing about talking to your food.”

  “Thin line,” he said, with a smile. “You been eavesdropping?”

  “Mm hmm.”

  “Well go on then, tell me. Is it true? Did Shay, Shaman do all those things?”

  “'ccording to them he did. I choose to believe he was a better man than that. If things went missing, he only stole what needed a'stealing.”

  “What would need to be stolen? That doesn't make any sense.”

  “Very little does in this world, not when y'truly know what's going on behind the curtain.”

  “About that...”

  “I already know, boy... they got their claws in, huh?”

  “Are you disappointed?”

  “Not at all. World at peril, that's how it is sometimes. Too often and too many times. Better you see it for yourself, know what the Circle really is, what it's all about.”

  “You're not pissed?”

  “Course not, darlin'. You keep safe, y'hear?”

  He nodded, unsure whether this edible iteration of his grandmother could see him. The leftovers lost their facial form, pieces of salad lifeless once again. He shifted them around, batting the olives up and down the rim of the plate absent mindedly.

  “You all set?” Talika asked, having returned from bathroom.

  He was. Now that he had his grandmother's blessing, he felt much better about the whole thing. She was right, he needed to see this thing through for himself, witness what the Circle with his own eyes, rather than live vicariously through her tales. Plus, he thought, who doesn't want to be responsible for saving the world?

  22

  Triumvirate

  Jules waited impatiently in the Epicentre for the majority of the day. The operation wasn't due to begin until the sun went down, but he was fairly certain that if he went home before they set foot on Italian soil, he would chicken out of the whole thing. As dusk drew forth, he was told to follow Faith to the 'tac room', which he chose to translate as 'tactical room'. It was essentially a locker room, with various options of gear they thrust upon him. A choice of armoured vests, robes, cloaks, all in black, and all covered in sigils and symbols intended to increase the defensive properties of the clothing. He decided to opt for a simple pair of black trousers and a sweatshirt, which the others scoffed at. Each of the team members went through to an adjacent room, where they picked weapons from a large variety that were hung on a wall. Jules was reluctant to carry anything, and said as much, which brought on mellifluous mockery from Leopold and Jacobian, their taunts sung in a harmonious synchrony. He paid no attention to them. As far as he was concerned, Jules was only there to facilitate entrance and exit from the villa and not
hing more. He had no intention of needing, let alone using a weapon.

  After the others had armed themselves – including Kanta, which surprised him – they followed Isaiah Faith back up to the Epicentre, through a door that led to a hallway constructed of stone. It looked ancient, lit by golden candlesticks in the walls. Jules couldn't help but notice that whilst there was fire dancing on their wicks, no wax was melting down their shafts. The dim glimmers from the flames reflected off the brickwork, damp from water running down it, pooling on the floor. They walked onwards for close to five minutes before the hallway opened out, leading to a large, dark chamber. Three men stood at the centre of the room in a triangle, facing inwards. Their arms up over one another, with a fire pit beneath them. As Jules got closer, he realised their arms weren't interlinked, they were connected, flesh melded from birth like conjoined twins, but three of them. Forever standing in formation

  “Three...” he found himself exclaiming. He knew this thing, these men. They had featured in many of his grandmother's stories, as facilitators of the Circle. Due to the magicks that flowed through their veins, and their combined nervous systems, they were amongst the most powerful magickians in all the lands, but never left their sanctuary deep in the depths of some castle, as they were no use in the field. Between the three of them, they had no eyes, eyelids barely formed, closed forever over hollow sockets. But they still saw. Everything, if the tales were to be believed. Omniscience through their natural magicks.

  “Greetings Jules Nichols.” they said, three voices speaking as one voice.

  “Uh... hi Three,” Jules said, still not completely believing that he was talking to them, to him (for Three preferred the singular) in this place that was literally out of a bedtime story.

  “This isn't the time for a meet and greet...” Faith grunted.

  “Very well,” Three said. Its voice lowered to a whisper, muttering incantations between its triumvirate of lips, vocal chords vibrating together as they cast to teleport the team out. Light coalesced in Jules's field of vision, as if someone was turning up a dimmer switch. But it wasn't the room getting brighter, it was him, his skin was luminescent, light pouring out of his eyes, consuming them.

  23

  About bloody time

  When the light retreated, he was no longer in the dank castle. They were in a woodland, assembled just as they had been before the teleportation swept them up and carried them through the ether to Italy.

  “You ready for this?” Faith asked.

  “I guess?” Jules said, shaking off stars from his vision. “Why couldn't we just take a door?”

  “Really? Does this look like the time for a Q and A?”

  'Doors are a direct route,' Tali said, her voice echoing from somewhere in his periphery. 'They can be tracked straight back to where they came from... lead the djinn straight to our, well, door. Teleporting is harder to track.'

  “Right. Of course.”

  “Are you happy now?” Faith asked. “Can we get this show on the road?”

  “Sure,” Jules said, walking up to the barrier. He could feel Three watching over him, hear its melodious chant on the air as it made the barrier visible, or at least made it as visible as it could. A rainbow wash glimmered and glittered in the air, revealing a translucent dome over the the Villa and the surrounding grounds.

  Shana Kanta took a step towards him.

  “You ever done this before?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she said, a nervous tremor on the words.

  “With four people in tow?”

  She avoided his eyes.

  “Me neither... could do with a hand,” he said, holding a hand out to her. She took it, and without a word spoken between them, they started siphoning shadows from the night. Darkness massed under the team, all six of them standing on pitch black.

  “This is going to be rough,” he warned.

  The rest of the team expelled a combination of huffs and eye rolls in response.

  “Don't say I didn't warn you...” he said, squeezing Shana's hand.

  All six of them fell into the shadows. In the darkness, they flipped, feet finding the floor in the Shadow Realm. Immediately, two streams of vomit arced over one another, as Leopold and Jacobian reacted to the roller coaster ride of crossing realms.

  “Told you...”

  He waited silently and patiently as the stream of effluence came to an end, the gurgles and groans joined by a cacophonous series of coughs and dry heaves from the rest of the team. Once they had recovered, Faith took the lead, flanked by the twins, Jules and Shana following behind with Sabre in the rear. Crossing the grounds, there was no sign of villagers, let alone the djinn himself. They came to the stairs, and Faith found himself stepping straight through them, ending up inside the staircase.

  “Takes a bit of practice...” Jules said, trying not to scoff.

  “Lend us a bloody hand then!” Faith grunted.

  Jules pulled the shadows together, making them solid, just as he would when he walked up steps or on air. The six of them walked side by side, the other five taking steps in time with him, until they came to the entrance to the villa. Walking straight through the smokey representation of the old wooden doors, they found themselves in a long, grand hallway full of shadow people. The mesmerised villagers around them took slow, zombie-like steps, essentially dormant for the moment, it seemed. More importantly, Jules thought, they had no idea of their presence just a realm over.

  The team's steps were slow and cautious as they wound and weaved their way through the slim gaps between the throng of mindless villagers, careful not to bump into any of them and risk alerting them to their presence. Following the shadow corridor, they turned a corner and found a massive exquisite archway at the end of the hall, beneath it stood a set of large double doors, guarded by four bodies.

  “Through there,” Faith said, taking the lead again, strutting with purpose, intending on heading straight through the doors.

  One of the four figures moved away from the others, flame erupting from its fists. A mystical light so bright it penetrated even the Shadow Realm. Faith recognised the figure from their weapon of choice; knuckle dusters.

  “Raven?”

  The light flew through the air, whipping through the darkness, making contact with Faith's jaw. The punch sent him into the air, straight through the wall behind them.

  The figure of Raven Shaffec-Argo smiled. In the Shadow Realm, her lips curled all the way up and out of her face. Then a voice sounded out as the lips parted, rippling off the walls, echoing around them.

  “About bloody time, we've been waiting here all damn day...”

  24

  Flip back

  Leopold and Jacobian whipped into action, hands wildly casting sigils. A bright white smoke hung in the air tracing out the paths their fingers took. Neither of them paid any attention to it, knowing full well that whilst their gestures were invisible in the Natural World to all but those of a certain magick discipline, they often appeared in other realms in various fashions. Leopold's sigils were intended for defence, Jacobian's for offence. If that hadn't been clear to Jules as they cast them, Jacobian made it obvious, by throwing a fist at Raven that went straight through his smoky sigil – and then went straight through her, causing her no ill whatsoever.

  They turned to Jules and glared. They were visitors to the Shadow Realm, and had little to no control over solidifying their presence. Their aggravated stares didn't last long, as flaming knuckles swiftly sent both of them flying.

  “We've got to flip back,” Shana said, her lip quivering. She grit her teeth together, pursed her lips, trying to hide her fear.

  Jules agreed without a word and grabbed her hand, the two of them sending the vibe out to all the shadows within reach to coalesce under the members of the team, dropping them through the ether, hurling them head over heels back into the Natural World.

  “Glad you could make it!” Raven said, with a gleeful smile on her face, a fire in her eyes that
was mirrored by the flames dancing on the surface of her knuckle dusters.

  Behind her, Dana Singh pulled her sword from her scabbard. This was taken as a sign by the other two mesmerised agents, Gali Daliyah and Talyn Kartovski, to draw their weapons; an identical sword and a five foot long staff carved with symbols and letters from a long forgotten language.

  Jules froze. His mind was blank, body unresponsive. The four magickians were Circle operatives, even if they were being mind-controlled, they were still skilled beyond his paltry training. It wouldn't just be a case of incapacitating them, he might have to put them down for good, and that wasn't something he believed he had inside him.

  A bolt of light arced around him and Shana, throwing Dana against the wall with a thud that echoed around the hallway. Groans responded to the sound off in the distance, as the mesmerised villagers became alerted to the infiltration.

  Sabre threw her hands together, fingertips meeting. The pairs of fingers acted independently of one another, sparks flying as she threw her palms out, sending bolts of lightning at Raven. The magickian raised her hand as they approached, batting the crackling electricity away with her knuckle dusters.

  “Oh come on, darling, you can do better than that...” Her hand came round, settling flat in front of her, fingers each casting minute sigils in the air.

  In an instant, the carpet pulled itself from the floor, folds grabbing hold of Sabre in a plush fist that held her aloft, squeezing the life from her. Shana fell backwards as the floor beneath her undulated, Jules catching her before she hit the ground. This conjuring was something he knew he could deal with.

  He pulled shadows under the carpet together, a thick black serrated blade shooting out from under the fabric, rat-a-tating back and forth like a jigsaw. Throwing his hand through the air, he guided the cutter around, slicing the fist free from the rest of the carpet. The grip on Sabre weakened as the textiles were torn from their greater whole. She gasped as the breath returned to her body, blood returning to her extremities. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, casting with both hands, muttering under her breath. Fire consumed her, setting the carpet alight in turn. The flames dissipated from her clothes as the fist of carpet fell to the floor as inanimate cinders.