[Shadowrun 41] - Born to Run

by Stephen Kenson - (ebook by Undead)

  Kellan thought about the trolls that G-Dogg had fought outside the Underworld. Then she imagined an entire gang of them, mounted on Harleys and armed to the teeth.

  “I see what you mean,” she said.

  The glittering cityscape parted before them as the highway stretched out over Lake Washington toward a heavily wooded island.

  “That’s Council Island,” G-Dogg said as they cruised toward it. “It’s the Native American Nations embassy in the plex, but the tribal council lets traffic cross I-90 with no hassle, as long as you aren’t looking to get off the highway late at night.” The ork eased up on the gas a bit as they approached the island, either to make sure he was observing the speed limit or to allow Kellan a better look, or both.

  She took in the traditional-style Salish longhouses with the tall, carved totem poles standing out front, surrounded by thick stands of trees. She also noticed the heavy ferrocrete blockhouses at the checkpoints off the highway, manned by stern-faced Native soldiers wearing fatigues accented by feathers and bead-work that contrasted with the modern assault rifles slung over their shoulders. She thought that she saw a Salish shaman at one of the checkpoints, wearing a bearskin cloak and a bone necklace.

  It was the shamans who had secured the future of their people and the Native American Nations. The Ghost Dance War between the Sovereign American Indian Movement and the United States and Canadian governments had been fought in 2017 and won with magic, not long after the Awakening brought magic back into the world. The Native Americans were among the first people to recognize that their ancient traditions suddenly had real power, and they were willing to use it.

  At first it seemed like a joke: ragtag bands of Indian terrorists up against the most powerful military on Earth. Then the Ghost Dancers unleashed the power of the four largest volcanoes in the Cascade Range simultaneously. There was no fighting against the power of Mother Nature, so the nations of North America were forced to negotiate with the Indians.

  Nearly half of North America was ceded to the new Native American Nations, but the Seattle Metroplex remained a part of what was now the United Canadian American States, situated in the midst of the Salish-Sidhe Council, one of the strongest members of the NAN. Council Island, in turn, was surrounded by UCAS territory, one nested inside the other, with everyone keeping a close eye on everyone else.

  Kellan refocused on the present as G-Dogg exited toward downtown Seattle, the heart of the metroplex.

  “So, who’s this guy we’re going to see?” she asked G-Dogg. The ork chuckled evilly.

  “Oh, I think you should just wait and see,” he said. “Some things, and some people, just can’t be explained. You have to see them for yourself. Lothan is one of those.”

  G-Dogg navigated expertly through the streets of downtown Seattle to the Capitol Hill neighborhood. Like most people who grew up on the flat plains of the midwestern UCAS, Kellan was surprised by the hills in this part of the city. The area was strictly middle lifestyle: row houses and restored Victorians along with small storefronts, coffeehouses and places catering to the shaikujin, “straight citizens” with honest, decent-paying jobs. Kellan wondered who someone like G-Dogg could possibly know in this kind of neighborhood.

  The ork bouncer found a parking spot, muttered a pleased-sounding, “parking karma strikes again,” deftly maneuvered the Argent into it, then killed the engine and gestured at the house just ahead of them. It had a turret on one side and a broad porch stretched around the front. The drapes were drawn and the looming windows stared out onto the street like dark eyes.

  “That’s it,” he said, getting out of the car. Kellan followed him up the stairs to the house’s front door, which featured a brass knocker shaped like the head of a gargoyle.

  G-Dogg smiled mischievously. “After you,” he said, gesturing toward the door. Kellan wondered what sort of game the ork was playing, but she would be damned if she was going to take the bait. She reached out to grab the brass handle and knock on the door.

  Before her hand even touched it, the door swung open silently and Kellan nearly jumped out of her skin. A glowing spot of light, about the size of a softball, appeared in the air at eye level and bobbed there, shedding a golden glow like a disembodied torch.

  “He’s expecting us,” G-Dogg said, as if that explained something. The ball of light drifted slowly away from the door and then paused, as if waiting for them. Kellan looked from it to G-Dogg and back again, then stepped across the threshold and into the house, followed closely by the ork. The door swung closed behind them with a quiet click as the ball of light bobbed down the hall.

  The interior of the house was quiet, and lit only by the glowing sphere. Very little light came through the heavy drapes covering the windows, even though there was a streetlight directly across from the house. The sphere passed through an open doorway at the end of the hall and disappeared, so Kellan followed it.

  The room beyond seemed fairly large, though it was difficult to judge the size, given the clutter it contained. Every available bit of wall space was covered with shelves, each containing more books than Kellan had seen in her entire life. Not dataslates or flatscreens, but actual, honest to God, dead-tree books, printed on paper with bindings of leather and cloth, stamped with gold and silver, some of the titles too faded to read in the dim light. In and around the books were scattered all sorts of trinkets and bric-a-brac: a crystal ball, a gnarled wooden wand decorated with feathers, strings of beads, dried flowers, half-melted candles, odd-shaped rocks, a silver goblet or two. A horned skull grinned from a top shelf. The air was musty and thick with the smell of old paper, dust and the faint spice of dried herbs and rose petals.

  “Well then, G-Dogg,” a voice rumbled. “What is it you’ve brought me this time?”

  Kellan turned as the sphere of light drifted across the room to illuminate a large, shadowy figure seated beside a desk near the window. He was a troll, though not like any troll Kellan had seen before. Even sitting down, it was clear that he was huge; his curved horns probably brushed perilously close to the high ceilings in the house when he stood. His hair was thick and iron gray and he had bushy eyebrows that drew together over his dark eyes. His features were as craggy as if they had been roughly carved from stone, and his skin was greenish-gray.

  He held open a broad, flat palm and the little light settled into it like a well-heeled pet. Its gleam highlighted the golden symbols running down the edges of the open robe he wore over a dark shirt and pants. An amulet of gold and gemstones rested against his barrel chest. Those dark eyes looked Kellan over, assessing, appraising.

  “Kellan,” G-Dogg said, “this is Lothan the Wise—”

  “Master of mysticism, arch-arcanist, and initiate of the inner mysteries,” the troll interjected, rising from his seat. He cast the ball of light up toward the ceiling where it hovered, shedding its glow on the room, and bent to scoop up one of Kellan’s hands in his own, bowing and bringing it to his lips. “At your service. And you are…?”

  “Um, Kellan… Kellan Colt,” she managed to reply, and the troll allowed himself a small smile.

  “Welcome to my humble abode, Kellan Colt,” Lothan said, gesturing to the room around him. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” He stood aside so Kellan could reach the red settee wedged under the window. Stacks of papers and books that had obviously occupied it before their arrival now surrounded it.

  “Thanks,” she replied. G-Dogg made himself comfortable on the settee next to her, squeezing Kellan off to one side, while Lothan settled back into his broad chair.

  “My friend G-Dogg told me only a little about you when he called,” the troll said. “He said that you displayed some skill in the arts arcane of late.”

  “Huh?” Kellan said, glancing at G-Dogg.

  “He means the way you flash-fried Horse, kid.”

  “Oh. Well, like I told G-Dogg, I don’t know how that happened.”

  “So you have no previous experience with magic?” Lothan asked.


  Kellan shook her head. “Not really. I mean, I learned a little about it in school, the Awakening and all that, and I knew this guy in Kansas City who was a shaman—”

  Lothan cut off the recitation by holding up a hand. “But no previous personal experience with magic?” he asked.

  Kellan shook her head again.

  “Hmmm,” the troll rumbled, stroking his chin. He sat back and slowly looked Kellan over from head to toe and back again, scrutinizing her carefully. Kellan felt her skin crawl. There was just something unsettling about the way the troll looked at her.

  “Um, Lothan—?” she began, but G-Dogg shushed her.

  “Quiet kid,” he whispered. “He’s working.”

  If Lothan noticed the exchange, he chose to ignore it. A moment later, he glanced up at Kellan, his eyes seeming to come back into focus.

  “Would you mind if I examined that trinket around your neck for a moment?”

  Kellan’s hand immediately went to the amulet.

  “No, I guess not,” she said. She lifted off the chain and held out the necklace to Lothan, who plucked it from her hand and gently turned it over, his thick fingers surprising her with their dexterity. His eyes took on the same unfocused look as he examined the amulet from every angle, gently waving one hand in the air around it, as if he was feeling something invisible all around the jade jewelry. For a moment, Kellan saw one shaggy gray eyebrow raise in a quizzical expression. Then Lothan raised his head once more and held the necklace out to Kellan, who took it from him and started to put it back on.

  “Wait a moment,” the troll said. “Please hand that to G-Dogg.” The ork nodded reassuringly, and Kellan did as Lothan asked.

  “Now then,” the troll said, in an authoritative voice, like a professor lecturing a class, “close your eyes.” Kellan hesitated and he added, “Please.” When Kellan complied, he continued. “I want you to picture in your mind a sort of egg around your body, made of glass or crystal. It can be whatever color you want, but I want you to picture it as clearly as you can.”

  Kellan concentrated on imagining what Lothan described. She saw the crystalline egg shape as sort of pinkish, glowing like it was made of light.

  “Do you have the image?” he asked and Kellan nodded.

  “Good, good,” the troll purred. “Just relax and keep concentrating on that image. Make the egg as smooth and perfect as possible.”

  Kellan sighed and focused on the egg image. She was starting to wonder what sort of nut-job this Lo-than character was. Why was he having her imagine pretty shapes? She would have preferred him to offer some help in looking for work.

  Suddenly, there was a flare of greenish light in her mind’s eye. Kellan felt it strike against the pink crystalline egg like a sharp blow and pain flared behind her temples like someone had stabbed her in the brain with an ice pick.

  “Ow!” she yelled, pressing the heels of her hands against the sides of her head.

  “You okay?” G-Dogg asked, leaning in toward her. Kellan warded him off with an outstretched arm.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m all right,” she said. “Just got a headache.”

  “Actually, what you have is a modestly effective spell defense,” Lothan said.

  “What?” Kellan asked. The troll mage looked extremely satisfied with himself, which Kellan began to suspect was his normal state of being.

  “Spell defense,” he reiterated. “The image I asked you to focus on is a basic exercise for reinforcing the aura and protecting against hostile spells. While you concentrated on it, I cast a simple stun spell at you and—”

  “You what?” Kellan said, jumping to her feet.

  “A stun spell,” Lothan said, waving Kellan to sit back down. “Nothing permanently harmful. Indeed, all it should have done is put you painlessly to sleep.”

  “If that’s your idea of painless, chummer, then—”

  “If you’ll allow me to explain….” the troll mage said sternly, and Kellan stopped in midsentence. She closed her mouth and sat down with deliberate slowness.

  “That’s better,” Lothan breathed. “Now then, as I was saying. My stun spell should have put you painlessly to sleep. Any mundane would have been out like a light. You, however, are no mundane, my dear.” When Kellan just gaped at him, he continued. “You have some magical talent, albeit somewhat limited, and quite untrained. You’re a magician.”

  “A… but how?” Kellan stammered. “I mean, if I was, wouldn’t I know it by now?”

  “Not necessarily. For some, the Talent emerges later in life. It may lie dormant until something activates it: stress, powerful emotion, even contact with other magic—something like that amulet of yours, for example.”

  “What about it?” Kellan said.

  “It is most definitely enchanted,” Lothan replied, furrowing his brow and stroking his chin, “although I have to admit that the exact nature of its enchantment eludes me. I’ve never seen anything exactly like it. Where did you get it?”

  “It used to belong to my mother,” Kellan said, “but I don’t know where she got it. I—I don’t know much about her, actually. I was hoping to find out more here in Seattle.”

  “Your mother, you say,” Lothan replied. “Hmmm. Well, I certainly haven’t seen the likes of this before. Perhaps it will yield some clues about her.”

  “Do you think?” Kellan asked.

  “I make no promise, but it’s possible.”

  “Well, you’ve got great news, kid,” G-Dogg said, patting Kellan on the back. “You’re a spell-slinger! You shouldn’t have any trouble getting biz.”

  “She’s not a trained magician, G-Dogg,” Lothan interjected. “Just a raw talent with little else to back it up. She needs training. In fact…” Both Kellan and G-Dogg looked at the troll mage as he rolled his eyes in thought. Then he looked at Kellan.

  “You intrigue me, my dear,” he said. “I haven’t seen a newly Awakened talent around here in quite some time—not one that wasn’t already influenced by some pirate street grimoire or, worse yet, some corporate thaumaturgy program. Too many bad habits for them to break, but you, you’re the proverbial tabula rasa, a blank slate. Plus, there’s that intriguing amulet of yours.” He wagged a finger in Kellan’s direction, touching it to his lips briefly as he collected his thoughts.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I would be willing to take you on as my apprentice, to train you in the arcane arts, teach you to harness and mold the potential that you have discovered, in exchange for certain considerations from you.”

  “What kind of ‘considerations’?” Kellan asked cautiously.

  “A percentage of your take, of course,” Lothan said. “You would be working for me, in effect. If you’re interested in shadow work, that is.”

  Kellan resisted the urge to glance over at G-Dogg, to see what he thought of Lothan’s offer. That was something an uncertain newbie would do, not a seasoned shadowrunner. If she wanted to make it in the Seattle shadows, she needed to start handling things like this on her own, making her own deals. She deliberately paused for a moment to think it over, not taking her eyes off of Lothan, doing her best to size up the old troll and his intentions. Lothan’s face was as unreadable as craggy stone, but really, he did seem to know his stuff, and G-Dogg said so, too, so what did she have to lose?

  “Deal,” Kellan said, extending a hand. Lothan grasped it in his own massive paw and shook it firmly.

  “Well, then,” he said, “you can get started right away. I actually have a business meeting to attend this evening. G-Dogg, I’d like you to come along too, since this job might be something of interest to you. If all goes well, there are a few people I’d like you to call.” The ork nodded in acknowledgment and Lo-than slapped his knees as he levered himself up out of his chair and reached for a carved wooden staff resting against the nearest bookcase.

  “Let’s do business, shall we?” he said.

  4

  The place Lothan took them to was called Ebey’s Bar. Lothan said
that it was a pun when it came to doing business, but Kellan didn’t get the joke. It sure as drek didn’t look to her like the kind of place where shadowrunners cut deals. It was nothing compared to the glamour and glitz of Underworld 93 or some of the metroplex’s other nightspots. It was just a run-down little hole-in-the-wall in Everett, wedged between two taller buildings. The inside was dim and smoky, decorated in dark-stained wood that created pools of shadow around the booths and small tables. The dull yellow lights over the bar barely succeeded in a feeble attempt at illuminating it.

  Ebey’s boasted a smattering of patrons at the tables and booths, no more than a dozen or so all told. At first glance, Kellan thought that the man behind the bar was an ork. He was certainly tall and broad enough, and ugly enough, but he lacked the tusks and pointed ears. His shaved head shone in the lights as he poured foaming beer expertly into mugs and slid them across the bar to a couple of guys wearing synthdenim and street leathers. The bartender glanced up as Lothan, Kellan and G-Dogg entered the bar. He exchanged an almost imperceptible nod with Lothan, then glanced toward the back of the establishment.

  “This way,” Lothan said quietly, taking the lead. The big troll made his way around the bar and between some of the tables toward the back, where two men waited at a table. Kellan noted there was no one else sitting near them, and the men sat where they had their backs toward the wall and a clear view of the front and rear entrances of the bar.

  Kellan gave the two a quick once-over. The first man was clearly the one they’d come to see. He was younger than Kellan expected, although age was always difficult to tell with cosmetic surgery, magic and gene-cleansing therapy available to people with the money to pay for it. He was human, his dark hair cut in a fairly severe, almost military style, wearing a nondescript pair of black jeans and a burgundy sweater that was bulky enough to conceal ballistic padding, maybe a weapon or two. He also wore black leather gloves, meaning that he was probably a SINner, someone with a System Identification Number. His fingerprints, genetic map and other data were on the Matrix in some government computer somewhere. That meant he had to be especially careful not to leave traces behind. Shadowrunners like Kellan and G-Dogg didn’t have SINs—at least not the kind you got from a government computer. They were blanks, ghosts in the machine, which was why SINners hired them in the first place. Shadowrunners who knew their business were careful to stay out of the databases of the governments and the corporations, since it was their anonymity—and deniability—that made them so useful.