Owl and the Electric Samurai

by Kristi Charish

  I took a step toward him, fists clenched. “You know what, Texas? You can go to hell.”

  It was Carpe who stepped between us this time. “Neither of you are helping—at all. What we need to do is get the suit and get out before the mercenaries show up.”

  “What we need to do is find a deeper and more obscure pit to bury it in, Carpe.” I was not happy about how he kept letting that detail slip. “We can draw straws as to who gets to leave first.”

  “Then the others wait until the Zebras come through the portal.” Rynn nodded. “That could work.”

  It was Texas and Michigan’s turn to exchange a look. “There might be a minor problem with that,” Michigan said.

  “What?” When neither of them coughed up an answer fast enough, I added, “What are you two assholes not telling me?”

  “The city has some strange rules about how many people enter and leave,” Michigan continued. “We still haven’t figured them all out yet.”

  I closed my eyes. “The short version,” I said.

  Michigan made a face. “Our numbers are hypothetical. Our gamble was to go through the same time you came in.” He made a face. At least he felt bad about trying to strand us. “In theory at least three of us should be able to leave now that you’re here and no one’s killed anyone.”

  “But we’re still not sure, not even if half the IAA and a private army waltzes through. As far as we can tell, the entire system broke all to hell about four hundred years ago, give or take,” Frank added.

  Carpe let out a breath. “Balance,” he said. “I was wondering how they’d gotten around that.”

  We all turned to stare at him, including Frank and Neil. Carpe shifted on his feet under the scrutiny. “Ah—this place is mostly magic. It has ground,” he said, and stamped his foot to make his point. “An ecosystem, even weather patterns, but it’s completely contained. Not quite in a pocket universe—those eventually collapse—but in a separated stasis with all the entropy removed.”

  “A world without chaos,” Rynn said.

  Carpe made a face at Rynn but nodded. “Simplified, but, essentially, yes.” He glanced up at the World Quest duo. “In order to keep this place in existence, the balance of entropy has to be carefully maintained. One person in, one person out.”

  Which would have worked just fine a thousand years ago when this place was the world’s first major trading hub. “What happened?” I asked.

  Michigan nodded toward the hills just outside the city proper. “There’s a Guge graveyard just past the field on the hillside—a massive one. A disease hit the city. A bad one. Smallpox, syphilis, maybe even the plague. By the end they weren’t even burying people, just leaving them in pits and throwing them in the harbor.”

  “The Guge,” I said, and Michigan and Texas both nodded.

  Well, I’d been partially right. The Guge had fled to Shangri-La, and then died en masse from a plague.

  “That many people dying in a place like this—I don’t even know how that would balance out,” Carpe said.

  “Trapping people here for the past four hundred years, that’s how,” Texas said.

  I doubted very much it had been designed to work that way. No one plans for an entire city to up and die overnight, but where magic leads, disaster follows.

  Well, that explained why no one had managed to find a way out and, in all likelihood, added to the problem with overzealous homicide. I glanced at Rynn. “Shangri-La has a warped sense of humor.”

  Carpe frowned at me. “I don’t think it’s sentient, Alix. More like a computer program. If a situation comes up that a designer doesn’t specify, it still tries to do the work, even if the answer is a little . . . off.”

  “Right now I could care less whether this city is riding on the back of a giant pink elephant floating through space. Can we leave or not, elf?” Rynn asked.

  Carpe pursed his lips. “Maybe.”

  “In other words, we won’t know until we try.” I sighed. Fantastic. I did so not want to be stuck in this place with a hundred odd mercenaries for the next ten years.

  I turned to Texas and Michigan. “All right, where did they stick Jebe?” I felt elation from the armor, mixed in with ridiculous promises.

  “Don’t hold your breath,” I thought back at it. “If being stuck in a tomb for seven hundred years pissed you off, then you really won’t like me finding you.”

  The set of Texas’s jaw told me how not happy he was with the direction I was going. “Chasing after a cursed suit, especially if the mercenaries are about to storm this magic mousetrap, is a lousy idea. I say we draw your straws and some of us leave now.”

  “Not without the armor secured and buried,” Rynn said.

  Texas narrowed his eyes at Rynn. “Sounds to me like it’s Hiboux they want.”

  “Seriously?” I said. “What? Tie me up with a bow and leave me here for when they show up?”

  Michigan cast his eyes down, but Texas met my stare. I held it. Then sighed. “Look, was I being a bit of a shit with the game? Yes, but let’s face it, you left that wide open.”

  Carpe groaned behind me.

  “But not even you two really think I deserve being handed over to the mercenaries and stuck in a homicidal magic set of armor as punishment. You might not like me, but if you really thought I deserved that, you would have banned me from World Quest years ago.”

  Michigan and Texas exchanged a glance, and for a moment I thought I’d gotten through to them.

  Texas turned on me, eyes narrowed, teeth bared. “Oh come on, you seriously believe we’re going to buy that save the world bullshit? You’re a worse thief than I thought.”

  I sighed. Or, maybe not . . .

  Rynn came to my defense. “She’s telling you the truth!”

  “Have you met her?”

  Goddamn it. Sometimes there was no winning, no matter how hard I tried. I noticed Captain, who’d been entertaining himself looking for mice amongst the rubble, start a slow creep toward the gate. I frowned. There was an iridescent sheen to it. “Guys?” I called out, taking a generous step back.

  Rynn and Texas kept arguing. “You’re not even giving her a chance,” Rynn continued.

  “People who answer every fucking question with the choice phrases ‘blow me’ and ‘I’ve got a bridge to sell you’ don’t deserve second chances!”

  There was a distinctive ripple in it now, like when hot air meets cold. Shit. “Ah—guys,” I said, louder this time, taking another step back from the gate. Captain, in a rare show of wisdom, followed my lead, clinging to the back of my legs. “I think the arguing will have to wait.”

  Both Texas and Rynn stopped and turned their attention on the portal. It had graduated from shimmer to reflective mirror, like a pool of water in the rain.

  Texas took one look at the portal and held out his bound hands. “Untie us—now.”

  Carpe obliged, while I grabbed Captain and ran for the tents, skidding to a halt behind the crates. I didn’t have my carrier anymore, so the best I could do was one of the canvas bags that had accumulated under the benches. I opened it up for him. He looked at the portal, the bag, then me, and let out a drawn-out mew.

  “Yeah, I know, but it’s the best I can do.”

  He snorted but climbed in. I fastened it to my back and set about building a barricade out of the crates I could lift.

  Seeing what I was trying to do, everyone else—including Neil and Frank—scrambled back into the tent and started to help. We had the crates stacked three high when the portal snapped, a sound that echoed through the valley, followed by the scent of ozone.

  The first two Zebras exited the gate into the square, guns raised. We dropped to the ground just as a round of bullets arced over the camp, striking canvas, old crates, and the grass indiscriminately—though I noted Shangri-La itself was mostly spared.

 
“These crates will hold up against bullets, right?” Carpe asked Rynn, his voice hopeful. In answer, one of the top crates exploded into splinters as another Zebra began firing. Lying on the ground, we peeked through the cracks to get an idea of what the hell was going on in the courtyard.

  A dozen or so more Zebras had streamed through and set up a semicircular perimeter around the gate. The gate shimmered as four more bodies passed through, three of whom I recognized: Williams, the head of the Zebras; Agent Dennings; and . . . shit. Dev.

  I cringed as Williams pushed Dev forward. It wasn’t a hard or cruel shove—just efficient. What about “get out of Nepal” had Dev not understood?

  The fourth figure though . . . He—or she—was dressed in a dark blue robe that reminded me of something Carpe’s World Quest avatar wore.

  The figure pulled down the hood to survey Shangri-La, and I got a better look at what had to be an elf underneath. Like Carpe, he was thin and somewhat frail, made more so by the massive blue cloak. He was also pale—pale and sickly. He didn’t conjure up the iridescence of vitality and youth. More like the pale rot that sets on living things at the end of their life, like dried wheat in a field.

  Was it my imagination, or was there the faint scent of dried flowers and decaying leaves? I shivered at the imagery. The cloaked figure turned toward us, and I could have sworn weepy pink eyes fixated right on me through the box slats. Captain growled inside the canvas bag, having squeezed his head out to watch the proceedings.

  “Still think the elves aren’t involved?” Rynn hissed at Carpe.

  “Just because that one is involved doesn’t mean all of us are.” But even through his words I could hear the uncertainty.

  Rynn tried to get a better look and was rewarded with another round of gunfire striking our blockade.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Nicodemous,” Rynn said. “An elf. One I unfortunately have the acquaintance of. I doubt he’s changed for the better.”

  I glared at Carpe, who said, “He’s much higher up than me—and no, he’s not the Grand Poobah elf—there’s no such thing!”

  Carpe was leaving something out. “Is he dangerous?” I asked. “And don’t you dare lie,” I added before he could get one word out.

  He closed and opened his mouth again. “Not that anyone has any proof of,” he said.

  Fantastic. An elf with questionable morals and the good sense not to get caught.

  Rynn had managed to maneuver himself under the table beside me, where he madly fetched equipment from his own bag as more Zebras spilled through the gate and took up various positions.

  “Everything I’ve ever said I’ve hated about the elves? That one personifies it,” Rynn said with more venom than I think I’d ever heard from him before.

  “There has to be what? A dozen of them?” Michigan said.

  “More,” Rynn replied, “and that’s just the Zebras.”

  Texas swore, but I could see the wheels churning in Michigan’s head. “That’ll work.”

  Texas frowned at him. “What will?”

  “If I’m right, it means we need to get out of here sooner rather than later, preferably before they send any more through.”

  I frowned. “I thought more coming in is a good thing? More people in, more people out.”

  Michigan shook his head. “Maybe—or Shangri-La is so unstable that it decides none of us should leave. Or it just says to hell with it and collapses on itself.” As if in answer, thunder sounded overhead. We all looked to see dark clouds accumulating over the snowcapped mountain range.

  “That normal?”

  Michigan shook his head, still staring at the storm clouds. “I’ve never seen a thunderstorm here.”

  Shit. “How long do you think it’ll take for them to figure out how leaving here works?”

  “More importantly, how long until they start to turn on one another,” Rynn said. “I’m guessing altruism isn’t a hiring factor for that bunch.”

  Yeah. I glanced at Williams again. Somehow I hoped it wouldn’t quite come to that; he might be practical, but he wasn’t evil. He was doing a job.

  I ducked again as more bullets turned the tent canvas above me into Swiss cheese.

  These hadn’t come from the same direction . . .

  I crawled on my stomach to where the tent canvas met stone and peeked underneath. Behind us, making their way through the ruins of Shangri-La’s abandoned buildings, was another group of Zebras.

  Rynn squeezed in beside me. “They’re flanking us. They must have managed to open another gate.”

  I was really starting to hate the competence of these guys. And we were out of options.

  I caught Michigan trying to grab something off a table. I grabbed his arm and yanked it back down none too gently before the next round of bullets could shred his fingers. “Neil, what the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m not leaving my notes for them.” And with that, he grabbed the nearest sets of journals and began shoving them into a canvas backpack that had been tucked under the desk.

  I dropped back to the stone tiles and came face-to-face with a growling pink tiger as another round of bullets hit the crates, shattering yet another one. “Open to ideas here, people,” I said.

  Neil wetted his lips. “There are more portals, including the one that leads to the cave in Nepal, deeper in the city, by the temple and market districts.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the overgrown city vegetation that obscured the stairs leading down. “Through there. They can’t have found all of them. One should be clear.”

  “Anyone got a better idea?” I asked.

  “Whatever we’re going to do, we should do it now,” Rynn said before lobbing a smoke grenade at the mercenaries to renewed rounds of shouts followed by gunfire.

  There were so many of them now.

  I narrowed my eyes at crates being pulled through by the Zebras under Nicodemous’s direction. With IAA logos stamped on the sides. Research equipment, lots of it.

  More thunder rolled overhead, and for the first time since the gate opened I heard the armor—it was laughing.

  They were going to try and find the suit. Rynn, seeing where my eyes had wandered, said, “The suit doesn’t do them any good if they’re trapped here.”

  No, it didn’t, but was I willing to gamble everything on that?

  I couldn’t, not when there was a sliver of a chance they’d uncover it.

  Somehow, some way, Michigan figured out where my mind had wandered. Maybe we weren’t that different. “It’s in the main temple, just down the steps. It’s the largest building here. You can’t miss it. The tomb should be somewhere in the basement.”

  I nodded. That would have to do.

  The armor, no longer bothering to hide its intent, laughed once again. I’d see how hard it laughed once I buried it. To Michigan I said, “Get the portal open; we’ll follow as soon as we can.” Or try . . .

  “Down the staircase, near the harbor. There’s a temple, one painted blue and yellow that has a portal around back. I think it opens somewhere in the Andes Mountains. It’s remote—they shouldn’t have found it yet.”

  It’d have to do. I nodded.

  “Down the steps, past the main temple, behind the blue-and-yellow temple. We’ll try to keep it open as long as we can,” Michigan repeated to me.

  Rynn nodded and lobbed two of our remaining smoke grenades at the mercenaries. It resulted in another round of gunfire but achieved the main goal—cover.

  Michigan lost no time darting into the brush. Texas gave me one last look and shake of his head. “Goddamn it, I can’t believe it—after four years we might actually get out of this hell-bound magic mousetrap.” He followed after Michigan, leaving Rynn, Carpe, and me.

  Carpe was staring at me, his eyes uncharacteristically wide. “Carpe, the best thing you can do now is
help them get that portal open and try to keep it open.”

  Carpe didn’t need any more prodding. He shot right through the foliage after them.

  As I watched him disappear, I got the gut feeling he’d been on the verge of saying something else. I wondered about it only for a moment as I hunkered down under another volley of bullets.

  “Ready to bury the Electric Samurai for good?” Rynn said, and hefted a roll of dynamite from his bag.

  I watched as the mercenaries spread out, heading for the buildings.

  The sooner we had the armor buried under a pile of rubble, the better. I got ready to make a break for it just as the slim, frail figure of Nicodemous stepped into the sunlight, which just made him look more sickly, his robes swallowing his thin frame. Once again I got the impression he was looking straight at me with those cruel red eyes. I felt Rynn tense beside me.

  Nicodemous whistled, and the mercenaries stopped.

  There was a tug at my shoulder. “Alix,” Rynn said. I gave Shangri-La a last look. All that treasure . . .

  I felt the cold influence of the armor, its desperation flooding my veins. But for once it wasn’t trying to wrench control over me. Less concerned with my intentions now and more concerned with getting me to it, though where the change in heart came from . . .

  I shook the thought out of my head as another round of coordinated bullets came our way. If it was going to cooperate now out of some last-ditch effort to escape, so be it. The enemy of my enemy . . .

  “This way,” I said to Rynn, and bolted for the steps that led to the temple entrance, bullets chasing our feet until we spilled through the heavy wooden doors.

  As soon as we were inside, Rynn grabbed one of the massive carved doors and put his back into closing it. I followed his lead, and the two of us managed to fit the wooden slabs into the metal slots. No sooner did we have it fixed in place than the jostling from the other side started as the mercenaries tried to push their way through.

  “That should hold them for an hour or so,” Rynn said, backing away and checking the windows. They were high but not insurmountable.