by TR Cameron
The grin that tugged at the edges of her teacher’s mouth indicated that she, too, had noticed the energy drain. Naturally, she pushed faster and harder, pushing Ruby until finally, with an explosive move, Keshalla blasted both swords from her hands and delivered a jumping front kick to her chest with both feet. Ruby went flying, maintaining the presence of mind to cushion her fall with an additional buffer of force magic and lay on the ground, spent. Even the act of keeping her eyes open seemed like a herculean effort.
After several seconds, Keshalla laughed. “Are you dead, minari?”
“Yes. Definitely. You’ve finally killed me. Are you happy now? Bury me where I’ve fallen. Doubtless with the bodies of all your other former students.”
“I believe the correct phrase for your behavior is ‘drama queen.’” The other woman’s smile came into view, looking down at her from above with her thumbs hooked into her weapons belt. She wore her black training armor, which Ruby now understood was far stronger than it seemed after her mentor had gifted her a set. Ruby hadn’t wanted to wear hers since it reminded her of the battle after the demise of her motorcycle, and the ornate version Keshalla had provided for her venamisha was too pristine for practice sessions. So she was in her oldest leathers, blue and silver, and absently noted that it was time to clean them.
She forced herself into a sitting position, her stomach muscles protesting the use, and Keshalla crouched beside her. The other woman’s tone held concern. “So, as much as I admire the dedication that has you here before dawn, pushing yourself to exhaustion, I have to wonder about the cause. Don’t try to say diligent study because we’ve worked together for too long. I know that’s not the reason.”
Ruby couldn’t hold back the snort and shook her head. “The voices in my head. From this.” She tried to pull up her sleeve, but the tunic was too tight. She removed it to reveal the octopus tattoo that decorated her left forearm.
All hint of amusement left her mentor’s voice. “Is that what I think it is?”
Ruby nodded. “Yes, and before you ask, accepting it wasn’t voluntary. I killed its last host, and while I was down, it infected me.” Yeah, that’s the right word. A virus. A parasite.
Inside her head, the Atlantean laughed. A partner. A master.
Shut it. “I don’t suppose you have any suggestions?”
Keshalla let out a soft growl that effectively conveyed her opinion of the artifact. “Those things are one of the reasons we chose not to engage with the wider world. They are,” she paused, as if searching for the right word, then finished, “Bad.”
Ruby replied with a dark laugh. “Yeah, I’m aware. He’s always there, pushing against my defenses, waiting for any instant of weakness to slip his tendrils in a little deeper.”
“His?”
“His. Its. Whatever. At first, the consciousness inside looked like Mirra Kaeni. Once I informed it that wasn’t going to fly, he showed up. An Atlantean, based on everything I’ve seen about them. Egotistical as all hell.”
Keshalla rose and extended a hand down. “Yeah, that sounds about right. I think a visit to the mystics is in order. If anyone will know more about that thing, it’s them.”
The head of the mystics emerged to greet them, then escorted them into the living room with its comfortable couches, tea, and trail bread. Keshalla explained the situation, and Nadar nodded. “Yes, everything we have says that was one of the arguments against interacting with the rest of Oriceran. Fear of contamination.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m right here, you know.”
He gave her a small smile. “Apologies. I don’t mean to be insensitive.” A thoughtful look crept onto his face. “Perhaps continuing the venamisha will help?” The suggestion held a hopeful note.
Ruby looked at her mentor for an opinion, but Keshalla only shrugged and remained silent. “No, thanks. I have plenty of voices in my head already without offering any more of them a way in. I think we’ll keep that one in reserve for now.”
Nadar nodded. “Finish your tea, and I’ll take you to meet the archivist. She’ll have more knowledge of the artifact or know where to look for it.”
The extensive library that lay below the mystics’ stone home was unexpected. No rock was in evidence here, despite the area being hewn from the mountain’s flesh. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all shining wood in different styles. The surface under their feet had the look of a jigsaw puzzle, with irregular pieces arranged in perfect interlock. Ornate carvings covered the ceiling, no two alike. The walls were vertical panels, a shade lighter than the floor and a touch darker than the tan surface above. All of it looked regularly polished, and the magical lights that dotted the room gave the wood an ethereal glow.
Bookshelves filled the chamber, set in perfect alignment to the walls, L-shapes to either side decreasing in size as they marched toward an empty spot in the middle. An ornate desk rested there, its wood darker than the rest. Ruby would’ve called it walnut but had no idea if Oriceran had walnut trees. Behind it was the oldest mystic she’d seen, a wizened Mist Elf with round glasses and grey hair, wrapped in a turtleneck sweater that seemed huge on her frail form.
The other woman dashed Ruby’s initial assessment of frailty by bouncing up and walking around the desk to meet them. “Nadar, who have you brought me?” Her tone made it sound like they were a gift.
He grinned. “This is Keshalla, and this is Ruby.”
The woman’s eyes widened a little at the introduction of Ruby’s mentor but went positively round at her name. She smiled at them both. “You are both known in these pages—Keshalla by name, Ruby by title. I was the one who found the most recent prophecy. Well, to be accurate, I was the one who made the connection. Obviously it had already been found, as it was in one of our books.”
Ruby turned in a circle, admiring the space. “What are all these?” Every shelf was full although not packed. Instead, the mystics had arranged the tomes artfully, some vertically, some horizontally, some facing out so their covers were visible. Small works of art sat between them in places. She could happily spend many hours in this room, exploring its contents and uncovering its secrets.
Nadar replied dramatically, “The collected wisdom of the mystics.”
The archivist snorted. “Please. They hold the history of the Mist Elves. Whenever something put into writing loses its home for one reason or another, it winds up here. We aggressively seek to preserve the remembrances of our people.” Her voice turned serious. “Since you’re visiting it, I can only assume it’s with a purpose, as the existence of this place is one of the secrets we try not to share even with august persons such as yourselves.”
Ruby nodded. “I’m seeking information about Rhazdon artifacts. Anything at all would be helpful, ideally from the perspective of one who possessed such a thing.”
The archivist frowned, but it wasn’t judgment. It was an effort at recall. “I have just the thing.” She bustled toward the back of the room. When she returned, her hands cradled a diminutive tome, sized like a travel notebook, small enough to fit into a trouser pouch and covered with heavy leather to protect it from the rigors of the road. “This is the personal journal of the only Mist Elf I’m aware of who was host to one. The artifact was lost when he died, but the book came to us.”
Ruby accepted it gratefully. “Can I repay you somehow?”
The other woman smiled. “As you continue your travels, bring back any books you think might be worth adding to our collection.”
They said their goodbyes and departed, Ruby remembering the twelve-sided room and the mad Mist Elf. Lots of books there, but I don’t have any desire to get them or to let anyone else have them before thoroughly inspecting them. Once they were outside and alone, Keshalla said, “Your face shows what you’re thinking. We are not going back to that place, even if it’s filled with books.”
Ruby barked a laugh. “I thought you wanted to retire there.”
Her mentor shook her head. “I’ve reconsidered. There’s
enough darkness in the surface world without voluntarily suffusing oneself in it.”
She looked down at the tattoo on her arm, which seemed to shift and ripple under her inspection. “Yeah. True that.”
Chapter Five
The meeting chamber was black-draped, the kemana’s leader deciding that was the appropriate way to show respect for the recent events. Grentham scowled at the sight and navigated his way to an empty chair without engaging others in the room. It was both too little and too much. Too much because the magicals’ loss of life during the latest incident was zero, thanks to the warning that had gone out ahead of time. Too little because it didn’t acknowledge the way everything had changed. Gabriel Sloane had started something that wouldn’t be finished quickly—revealed a dent in the armor, a vulnerability. Now they’ll be scrambling to patch it, which could be good for Aces Security or bad for the company. Either way, I need to make sure it’s good for my people and me.
The Council members were quiet as the remaining representatives assembled. Maldren gestured toward the woman beside him, and Jailynne Sunshi stood and addressed the group. “I wanted to say goodbye. I hope you understand why my family and I have to leave. Although one particular human was responsible for this, others will see it as an opportunity.” Her expression was more sad than angry. “We have no desire to be caught up in it, not while our children are still young enough to be vulnerable.” The people around the table offered comments of understanding and condolence, and Grentham did the same, making sure he was near the middle to be unnoticed. Yeah, go, get whatever. He’d never particularly liked them, and now they were irrelevant, so any need to pretend had vanished.
When she’d departed, Maldren shook his head and spoke in a grave tone. “We must always remember to balance personal needs versus community needs. On occasion, in an assembly like this, we focus too much on the group and not enough on the self. Everyone should remember that being a vibrant part of the community sometimes means leaving the community for a time, and some situations call for a permanent separation.” He paused as if waiting for others to reply, but no one did. Grentham considered asking him to explain himself because he wasn’t sure how leaving the community and staying in the community could coexist but chose to let it go.
Bartrak, the Kilomea, cleared his throat. “We should discuss the events in question.”
Grentham immediately replied, “Agreed.”
Maldren shrugged. “The purchase of the land by the trust is complete. Doubtless other interests will seek ways into it, or around it, but we are assured that no loopholes exist to allow someone from outside to interfere with our decision-making ability.”
The Drow, Elnyier, asked, “Do we have any information on either of the people who were with Sloane?”
Bartrak rumbled, “Only that one was smaller than average. Maybe a gnome. Perhaps a dwarf.”
Grentham snarled, “Or it could have been a short human. Given that the individual was masked, there’s no way to be sure. So, let’s cease casting stones. Doubtless many others were involved who weren’t on the Strip that night and could be anyone. It’s not impossible members of this very group might seek an advantage over the others, despite the friendly face they display in gatherings such as this.” That should diffuse the suspicion a little by increasing its scope dramatically. It wouldn’t have been his first choice of strategy, but the comment was too blatant to be ignored.
Lachsan, the Wood Elf, replied, “There is no need to search for suspicion when we have no possibility of resolving that question. What’s past is past. Now, we must decide what we’re going to do about it.”
Rosalind Caruthers, the representative of the witches, said, “We will hire more security, for sure.” Nods confirmed the others planned to do the same.
Grentham chuckled and shook his head in mild disbelief. “Have I not been suggesting that very thing for quite some time now? Perhaps now you’ll listen, and all it required was the destruction of one of our damn casinos. My company is ready to assist. All you have to do is say the word.”
Elnyier tapped the table gently to capture everyone’s attention. “The Drow plan to hire additional protection as well, and I have reached out to people I know, in Kemana MountHaven and beyond. An all-magical security company from Provo has agreed to set up a satellite office here. They are shifting a significant portion of their existing workforce to Ely and will hire replacements to work for their existing clients. That way, we can be assured that if we contract their personnel, those individuals have a history that demonstrates loyalty and reliability.”
Grentham snorted. “I’m sure that means they’re completely trustworthy and could never be bought off by anyone with deep pockets.” He shook his head again. “As always, I believe you should trust one of your own, namely me and my company. But you’ll make whatever choices you’ll make, as you have in the past. If you choose poorly, let’s hope no one else pays for your foolishness. Speaking of which, maybe a bigger priority at the moment is to determine how to keep more of our casinos from falling.”
The chide earned him scowls from the others in the room, although their host’s expression remained neutral as he spoke. “The Paranormal Defense Agency has deployed in greater force as a result of the event. I have been in contact with them, and they are taking it upon themselves to increase surveillance to identify potential trouble.”
Challen, the Gnome healer, replied, “I’ve seen many more drones buzzing around on the streets above. Is that what you mean?”
Maldren nodded. “That’s part of it. They tell me they’re also bringing in more operatives, planning to do what they call a ‘serious sweep’ of magical crime in the city.”
Grentham replied, “Correct me if I’m wrong here, but Gabriel Sloane was human, wasn’t he? A bit outside the PDA’s normal mandate.”
Their host shrugged. “Apparently, that mandate has expanded, in their estimation.” Worried looks greeted that statement, and he acknowledged them with a frown. “I agree this is a matter of concern. We must be vigilant, keep our eyes open, and watch both those in need of protection and those who are allegedly acting as our protectors.”
Grentham grumbled, “Like those three who could’ve prevented all this mess simply by giving themselves up.” He shook his head again and raised a hand before anyone could argue. “I know. It was an insane request in the first place, and no one should’ve given in to it. But, if we are watching the protectors, we must consider that trio as well. Who knows what’s really going on with them? Hell, for all we know, the whole thing was an elaborate ruse of some kind, for purposes we can’t yet identify.”
The Atlantean representative to the Council, Andrielle, scowled. “Are you truly suggesting Gabriel Sloane sacrificed himself for a fiction? That may be the dumbest thing ever said at this table.”
Grentham fired back, “Of course not. Obviously, things didn’t go as Sloane had planned. But who knows? Could’ve been a double-cross. My point is, we don’t have a clear understanding of it, and thus we have to be careful trusting anyone who’s not us.”
Rayar Achera changed the subject. “At Spirits, we’ve installed new technologies to assist in protecting the casino. Our entry scanners now detect metal, explosives, illicit drugs, and the presence of magic. They were expensive and only exist because we as a group agreed some time ago to help fund the research and development of the technology, which seems downright prescient given the current circumstance. The company assures me they can provide them at cost to our casinos. The price of that assistance is renegotiation of the contract to allow them to open up to other markets faster than we’d originally planned. I see no problem with this arrangement and hope you’ll support it.”
Maldren asked for objections, but none came. He said, “This is a prime example of what we can accomplish when we work together, both toward the success of the Kemana and the success of the city above us. We will have several weighty issues on the agenda for the next meeting, including initial plans for
the space once filled by the Mist. I ask you all to remember that you are collaborators more than you are competitors. At its heart, Magic City is a community, and it’s up to us to remember to act like neighbors rather than opponents.”
The rest of the meeting passed in a haze of mundane issues Grentham participated in with only a minimal allocation of his brainpower. The rest sorted through strategies and tactics, ultimately coming up with nothing certain. When they had been working directly for Sloane, certainty was present. It was wrapped in danger and carried the man’s constant condescension, but the path forward was clearly visible. For a few steps, anyway. Now, we’re walking sightlessly in the dark, and monsters abound. Time to do another review of my people to make sure there’s no enemy hidden among the loyal ones.
Chapter Six
Morrigan Achera crouched on the edge of a three-story rooftop and gazed down at the street below. She and Idryll had made a habit of nighttime patrols since the incident on the Strip. The ambient sense of danger in Ely had ratcheted up considerably, and she saw it expressed in the actions of the people on the streets. They stayed in groups and moved more quickly from place to place. Someone who hadn’t spent as much time as she had watching and characterizing people’s behavior might not have noticed it, but the evidence was undeniable. Magic City had changed, and not for the better. She muttered, “Well, we’ll have to figure out how to change it back.”
From her right, where the tiger-woman crouched, Idryll asked, “Change what back?”
“Nothing. I mean, everything. Never mind.”
Her companion laughed. “Every time I think you might have avoided whatever damaged your sister’s brain, you say something like that. I’m filled with concern.”
Morrigan grinned. Making fun of Ruby was one of the games they both deeply enjoyed, whether she was physically present or not, and the insults occupied a decent portion of their time on patrol. “Yeah, yeah. Trust me. Unless I start sniffing glue, I shouldn’t have any issues similar to hers.” She nodded at a pair of people below. Human males, wearing leather jackets, thick boots, and chains dangling from their belts. “Looks like we have some street gang wannabes down there.”
