It wasn’t long before I made my way up Washington Street and to the top of Settler Hill.
The compass rested in place where it had always been. It was a large metal sculpture, one of the few in the city that preceded anything my father had placed here and one that apparently created a certain magical shroud over the city, a way to mask it from the eyes of those like the Trelking. His reach would otherwise extend beyond the Threshold, but with the compass, it restricted his prescience.
After it had nearly been stolen, it had taken time to return it to its rightful place. I still didn’t understand what it did or why Brand had wanted it, other than to hide from his father, but there was something to learn from it, from the power extended through it.
Standing atop the hill, I could see the city splayed out in front of me. The pattern made into the trees was visible now that I knew what to look for. Taylor had been the first one to identify it, though I should have known my father would be crafty enough to figure out a way to work even the trees into his projects. Hell, Taylor had used the trees when she was trying to distract the shifters, so it made sense my father would find a way to do something both similar, and way more impressive.
I ran my hand over the compass. Power hummed within it. This close, I could feel the energy of the sculpture, the way it drew power as if from the city itself. Had it always done that? I didn’t think so, but then again, the compass had only been back in place for a short while. Thankfully Jakes had managed to get help with replacing it back where it belonged. The shifters had used their magic, though I still didn’t understand everything about their magic, but they had fused the sculpture to the stone beneath. It would take a little more than a mild magical attack to separate it again.
The sense of power from the compass increased, becoming stronger. As it did, it surged away from Settler Hill, spreading down and into the city below.
How was it I felt it?
There was something off, though. I don’t know how I knew, but it was there.
I turned to the north end of town. There was nothing there but industrial buildings. A few were abandoned, but most were large warehouses or plants that provided much of the industry in Conlin. There seemed to be a gap in the compass’s power, a void that shouldn’t be there.
I grunted. Now that I had claimed the title of protector of Conlin, it was time for me to get to work. I only wished I knew what it meant, and what I’d committed myself to.
2
After stopping back at the house and picking up Devan, Big Red rolled up to an empty warehouse on the north end of town. Once, this part of the city had some industrial presence, a few big factories had moved into town. There had been a tractor manufacturer down here that had taken most of a city block, the sprawling buildings once humming with activity. Now there wasn’t much left but the sign that hung near the corner, the lettering faded and out of place, and weeds growing up all around the chipped brown poles holding the sign. The lawn had gone overgrown, weeds and dandelions covering it. The parking lot was cracked and the painted lines all faded.
“What was this?” Devan asked.
I pointed to the south entrance as we pulled into the parking lot. The lot was empty, but I hadn’t expected anyone here. Whatever had caused the strange magical void had been here. I don’t know what it was, or how I sensed it, but there was no mistaking the location. And the closer we’d come, the more uneasy Devan had become. She felt whatever it was that I’d felt while atop Settler Hill.
“When I was a kid, this was a big manufacturing plant. Three shifts, so lots of people worked here.”
Devan’s eyes widened as she eyed the building with new interest. I could only imagine what Devan could do with some of the industrial tools available in a place like this. Considering what she accomplished in the shitty workshop my father had left me, I think her having access to something with serious tooling and heavy machinery might be more than a little frightening.
“What happened to it?” she asked.
“Don’t know. It was still running strong when we left for Arcanus.” That had been well over ten years ago. I’d spent a decade working for the Trelking, a decade where I learned nothing but mastery of arcane patterns. When I returned to Conlin, it had been for safety, but also to attempt to learn enough to keep Devan and me safe.
But ten years is a long time, especially in a small town. The economy changes and plants that had once been profitable suddenly weren’t, so the smaller plants get squeezed, everything centralized as corporate offices try to consolidate. It wasn’t surprising this plant closed.
I studied the warehouse. Other than the overrun lawn and the cracked and faded parking lot, the warehouse itself looked to be in pretty good shape. Windows were still intact, and large glass doors were closed, but not broken or vandalized like some shuttered businesses. The only other thing that told me that the plant was shut down was the graffiti painted on a section of the walls.
“Do you sense it?” I asked.
Devan nodded. “Not like before. Whatever it is, the power is cycling. Not really sure how else to explain it.” She turned back to me after surveying the building. “You say you sensed this too?”
I shrugged. “If you can’t explain it, I can’t either. I was up by the compass, and I felt power coming from it. But it didn’t stay isolated to the compass. Whatever power that thing has is sort of autonomous.”
“Autonomous? You think your father has some pattern up there that’s still firing, even now after the compass had nearly been stolen?”
“Not my father. That thing is older than him.” In the time since we’d stopped the Trelking from attacking the city, I’d seen some of the old photos of Conlin. The compass was there then, placed by some of the earlier inhabitants of the city.
“If it’s not your father, then what do you think it is? You haven’t mentioned it before.”
“Because I haven’t felt it before today. Maybe it’s always been there, or maybe it was something new.”
Devan’s brow furrowed. “If it’s been there, it makes you wonder why today, what changed that you can sense it now?”
“Yeah, and why can’t you sense it too?”
“I don’t know, Ollie.”
I could tell that it troubled her that she couldn’t so I didn’t push. Looking toward the plant, toward the drawing power that Devan sensed, I asked, “What do you think it is?”
A troubled expression passed over her face, contorting her brow. “Hard to say. There’s real power here, different than what you use, Ollie, but I can sense it, so it tells me that it’s something other than the shifters we know live here. And apparently different than whatever the Compass is doing.”
Great. Now they had to deal with something else.
“I didn’t think there would be quite so much fun on this side of the Threshold,” Devan said.
“You think this is fun?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Better than you moping around thinking about things you couldn’t have prevented. Besides, isn’t your goal to keep getting better? That’s why we came here, why we stay at the place of the Elder. I can think of dozens of places that might be more fun, but…”
“Wait… you don’t think staying in my father’s house is any fun?”
“It has certain qualities that I like,” Devan said.
I laughed. “If I want to keep you alive, we need to be here. That’s the whole reason we returned to Conlin.”
“The Druist Mage isn’t interested in crossing the Threshold. I think we’re plenty safe on this side for now.”
And with the compass back in place, we didn’t have to fear the Trelking watching over us like he could on the other side of the Threshold. Strangely, if not for the fact that there were multiple crossings around the city, Conlin might be one of the safest places for me to try to learn what I needed to help Devan. And if what the Trelking saw was right—and given that it’s the Trelking and most of his visions were right—I’d eventually have to kill the
Druist Mage. I didn’t know enough yet to feel even remotely comfortable with that idea.
“Yeah, well it doesn’t make me feel too good that we still don’t know what the Druist Mage was after.”
“He’s already gone after the orb and now the compass. What else do you think your father might have here that he wants?”
I didn’t know, and that was the problem. “You ready to go kick some ass?”
She frowned at me. “Really, Ollie? Do you think we’re going to have to go in all magical, sort of guns blazing? Maybe it will be some sort of gentle magic I’m picking up.”
I laughed. “When have we ever had that kind of luck?”
Devan smirked. “It could happen,” she said, then turned away and jumped out of the truck.
Pushing the door of the truck open, I checked the satchels of ink I kept hooked onto my belt and stepped out. As soon as my feet hit the concrete, I felt the power building around me, humming in a sort of rhythmic fashion. It was palpable, and Devan was right, something so different to it than anything I’d ever felt before. And that was saying quite a lot considering that I had spent a decade on the other side of the Threshold where there are more magical creatures than I can keep track of.
The Threshold serves as something of a divide, keeping the magical beings on one side while letting all the normals on this side live a quiet life, unknowing that there is something else. Other than painters, there aren’t many who even knew that magic exists.
Most think it nothing more than superstition and folk tale, but the truth is more complicated and strange. Pretty much all of the superstition has its basis in something that had once crept across the Threshold.
There were people like Jakes and his kind, guardians who prevented access across the Threshold. Apparently, my father had served as a protector as well, serving something called the Protariat, serving in a balancing role. Now I’d agreed to fill that role, only I had no idea what it meant for me.
Devan grabbed a couple of her figurines and held them in her hands. I couldn’t tell which two she’d chosen. As far as I knew, any of them could be magically enhanced so that they grew to massive size, swelling so that they provided her with offensive power that she otherwise wouldn’t—and couldn’t—use. Her figurines had saved us from a magi, and another had helped keep me alive when her brother came after the compass, so I knew just how powerful they could be.
Seeing her grab for her figurines, I decided I’d better be a little better prepared and took out a long, rectangular charm. Ink filled it, and with the way Devan had crafted it, I could trigger the release of the ink and trust that the pattern created would be one that I intended. This one would act something like a pistol, with three rounds loaded. I just would have to make certain my aim was good.
We reached the south door leading into the warehouse. A flat metal overhang provided protection overhead. A cement planter had overgrown nearly as much as the lawn outside the warehouse. A few cigarette butts littered it as well. I noticed a scuffmark on the ground near the planter, but there wasn’t anything else.
Devan stopped at the door and pulled on it. “Locked,” she said.
Locked didn’t mean much for someone like me, not so long as a conventional lock was used. Devan could probably just yank the door off its hinges, but that wouldn’t do any good either, and would only get Sheriff Jakes coming out our way leaving us with other sorts of questions to answer. Either way, we’d get those questions.
I knelt in front of the lock and studied it. A silver bar ran across the middle of the door, with glass above and below it. Shades were drawn over the glass. A solid deadbolt prevented the door from opening. At least this I could work with. Using a pinch of red ink, I made a spiraling pattern around the lock in the red ink I had with me and then infused it with a surge of will. The lock snapped with a tearing sound.
“Guess we’d better not tell Jakes about this,” I said.
“You’re the protector of the city,” she said.
“Somehow, I don’t think that extended to breaking the law. He might be a shifter, but he still has this thing about breaking and entering. Besides, if this is some new magic coming across, I’m surprised he’s not here already. I figured he’d sense anything crossing the same as you.”
“Don’t know, but not sure we can wait,” Devan said, then pulled on the door. It opened silently. She raised her brow at me in something like a wink and slipped inside, holding one of her figurines out in front of her, whispering softly to it as she did.
I half expected the figurine to spring to life as we entered. Whatever power she used to animate them had more to do with the way she spoke to them, whispering softly to the figures, than any real drawing of power. The amulet I wore that tied me to her power barely flashed with any sense of cold, the only way I’d know if she used her magic, other than when her skin glowed, and that was pretty obvious.
Once Devan was through, I followed her through the door, making certain to let it close softly behind us. The inside of the warehouse was mostly dark. Dust motes hung suspended in the air, catching the fading light from the door as it closed and reminding me of the Trelking’s palace. There was a similar musty, aged appearance to the warehouse.
Devan surged a hint of power through her, making her skin glow slightly, enough to give light for me to see. We were in a hallway that led toward the main part of the warehouse. To the left was a row of offices. A bright red time clock—the kind you punched with an actual card—hung on the wall to the right. A row of pegs with hardhats hanging from them led away from the time clock. Devan grabbed the nearest one and stuck it on her head. Even in that, she looked pretty cute.
The power that I’d been feeling outside was stronger inside. It continued to pulse, rising in a steady rhythm, something to it that reminded me of a pattern. I grabbed Devan’s arm and paused. She glanced over at me, and I raised a hand up, letting the magical energy building roll up and over me. There was almost something to it that I recognized, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Definitely not painter power, but I had no idea what it was. A part of the power grated on me as if brushing against a raw nerve ending.
“Careful,” I mouthed to Devan.
She shot me a look that told me I was being stupid, but she set one of her figurines onto the ground and whispered to it softly. It elongated, stretching into the shape of the half fox, half snake creature, and slithered off into the warehouse.
I didn’t know what her little friend could do, but I felt better having it along. The few times we’d needed them, they had been helpful. I didn’t think they had any magic of their own, but they were an extension of Devan’s magic, tying into what she could control.
Then I stepped in front of her and took the lead. I held the charm out in front of me, ready to trip it as soon as I saw any sign of whatever drew power around us. The warehouse was dark, and I didn’t have Devan’s eyesight to see through the darkness. A row of dusty windows along the back wall let in some light, but the tall oak trees growing along that side of the building obscured it from letting too much in. Rows of machinery were stationed throughout the building. The nearest ones were small, looking to me like nothing more than industrial table saws and drills. Farther in, there was what looked to be the remains of some sort of conveyor belt, but whatever it had attached to was gone, probably shipped away when the plant closed. Hoses hung from the ceiling, most dangling, though one or two coiled, left wrapped neatly just out of reach.
“Looks like some kind of horror movie waiting to happen,” Devan muttered.
“You really watch the wrong movies.” Devan bumped up against me, and my feet slipped noisily across the smooth floor.
The cycling power stopped. I held my breath, waiting. As I did, I switched the charms in my hand, reaching for one that wasn’t purely offensive, grabbing one that would make a perfect circle around me. The farther in we went, the more curious I was. Power strong enough for me to feel would have to be impressive, but so far I hadn’t s
een anything meant to attack me. It went against my better judgment—and the years and experience pounded into me by the Trelking—to not come in shooting power around, but there remained the possibility that whatever we sensed wasn’t out to attack me.
The steady and rhythmic cycling of power resumed. It thrummed against me, hitting me with steady waves. Finally, I felt the pattern. Long. Short. Short. Long. Each wave repeated, almost like a message.
I stepped into the open floor and looked around. The source of the energy was nearby, I could feel that much, but not exactly where it was. Moving forward again, I made my way between two pieces of dusty machinery. A long length of silver steel rested on top of one of them, and Devan grabbed it, twisting it so that it whistled in the air as she did.
The floor of the warehouse opened up to my left. Rectangular patches of brighter cement indicated where other pieces of equipment had once been placed. Now it was mostly open space. Toward the back wall, I saw a shadow moving. I started toward it, holding my charm in my hand ready to fire.
Devan grabbed me and pulled me back. “I’m not sure about this, Ollie,” she whispered.
“Not much choice now, is there?” I asked. “I’m sort of the protector here now. Isn’t that what I agreed?”
She stared into the darkness. The frown on her face told me that she didn’t like what she saw. I offered her my widest smile, trying to reassure her as we started forward again, but she didn’t pay any attention to me.
Once in a while, I wished I had even a hint of her ability, mostly with sight. It’d be helpful to be able to see some of the craziness coming at me. But there were times where it was helpful to be left in the dark until the last moment. This was one of those times.
As I neared the shadow, I could make out the outline of a massive creature. It stood nearly ten feet tall, and was muscular, though not like Jakes. This guy was lean, and his skin was a shade of red or orange, though that was hard to tell in the light. Blunted horns protruded from his head. Long claws tipped the ends of his fingers, and he gripped a long wooden staff in one hand that he tapped on the ground. This created the rhythmic power I sensed.
Stone Dragon (The Painter Mage Book 5) Page 2
