“Akan!” she said, her hand dropping.
There was a whoosh as Orion swept forward with his blade. Steel rang on steel as Green Lucifer blocked: high, low, then to the side. Then the gang leader came in at Orion and his blade flashed, blocking the incoming thrusts: one, two. They spun apart like dancers, facing each other.
They circled around each other warily, the first strikes just probing, testing the other’s defenses. Orion lunged forward again, and Green Lucifer blocked. A sweep of his blade pushed Orion’s aside, and he slashed. Orion ducked and his opponent’s blade cut only empty air. He spun as he came back up and thrust, but Green Lucifer’s blade whipped up to block again.
They circled. This time, Orion paused, letting Green Lucifer come at him. He ducked low to avoid a high swing, then leapt up and over, his opponent’s blade passing beneath him. Kellan watched as Orion somersaulted over Green Lucifer’s head to land on his feet right behind him. But the gang leader spun in time to block Orion’s strike, their two blades momentarily locked together. Then Lucifer rolled back, dropping to the floor and planting a foot in Orion’s stomach. With surprising strength, he heaved the other elf right over him, but Orion tucked into a roll and landed on his feet a short distance away as Green Lucifer came back up onto his feet to meet Orion’s next lunge.
They circled and stalked in a rhythm punctuated by sudden flurries of attacks and blocks; the ringing of the swords, the slap of booted feet and the controlled, heavy breathing of the duelists the only sounds in the cavernous warehouse. Kellan’s knuckles were white on the metal railing of the stairs as she watched. It was clear the two men were both masterful fighters, but Orion’s posture and manner were deadly serious and Green Lucifer’s face never lost its wicked, mocking expression.
It’s like he’s just playing with him. Green Lucifer took every opportunity to mock his foe with each move, every flourish of his blade, every expression, even in the way he stood. It was taking its toll on Orion. The younger elf came in each time with an attack more fierce and furious than the last, only to be repelled.
“Shata, goronagit!” Green Lucifer sneered, and Orion rushed at his opponent with a loud battle cry.
Both their blades were blurs of silver as Orion struck and Green Lucifer blocked, over and over, in the rhythm of the deadly dance.
Then the Ancients gang leader feinted. Orion dropped his guard for a moment. A swing came in too high and Green Lucifer’s blade caught his. There was a twist, a flash of metal, and Orion’s sword clattered onto the concrete floor a short distance away. Kellan’s breath caught in her throat.
Green Lucifer’s blade flashed and Orion cried out, dropping to one knee on the floor, a hand clutched to his face. Kellan could see blood dripping between Orion’s fingers, gleaming wetly on the tip of Lucifer’s sword.
Kellan didn’t even think as she rushed into the circle, to where Orion knelt. Instead of striking a killing blow, Green Lucifer put up his sword, raising the blade before his face for a moment in salute, then swept it to point down and outward.
“Carronasto,” he said quietly.
Kellan knelt beside Orion, but he put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her away, rising slowly to his feet, his right hand still clutched to the side of his face. He stood and faced Green Lucifer in the middle of the circle.
“Goronagee irenis,” the Ancients’ leader said flatly. As one, the assembled gang members standing in the circle turned to face away from where Orion stood.
Slowly, Orion walked over to where his sword lay. He picked it up with a bloody hand and slid it back into its sheath. Kellan saw now that Lucifer’s sword had cut a bleeding gash along Orion’s cheek; blood already staining his T-shirt red on one side.
Without another word, Orion turned and walked away from Green Lucifer, out of the circle of the gang members. Kellan glanced back at where the Ancients’ leader stood, watching Orion go, with no trace of emotion on his face. The other elves were the same: like cold, beautiful statues. Kellan followed as Orion walked over to his Yamaha Rapier, mounted up and started the engine. With only a moment’s hesitation, she climbed on behind him. Orion made no move to stop her.
He revved the engine and two of the gang members moved to open the door of the old warehouse. When it was open, Orion put the bike into gear and roared out into the night. Kellan glanced back at the tall figure of Green Lucifer standing framed in the doorway as it closed behind them, bloody sword still in his hand. She saw the elven gang leader’s face twist into a bitter, mocking smile as they rode off.
15
Orion barely reacted as the street doc ran the surgical stapler along the gash on his cheek. Of course, she’d stuck a patch on the side of his neck providing enough beta-endorphin that Orion probably wouldn’t have flinched at much of anything. He’d resisted the offer of anesthetic at first, but Dr. Fait insisted. “Or else I can’t be responsible if I happen to stitch your mouth closed,” she said. Orion didn’t argue with her any further.
The elderly woman apparently knew Orion quite well and greeted him by name when he and Kellan went to her makeshift office in the basement of a building in Puyallup so Orion could get patched up. The street doc saw Orion immediately, ahead of two other patients. Fortunately, they didn’t complain.
Dr. Fait must have been in her sixties, but her gnarled hands were still deft, and her touch steady. She carefully closed up the cut on Orion’s face, squinting at her work as she went.
“You’re damn lucky,” she said to Orion as she worked. “It’s a clean cut and you got to me right away. If you manage to keep out of trouble for a little while, it shouldn’t even leave much of a scar.”
“Oh, it’ll scar,” Orion muttered. His mood had been grim since they left the Ancients’ headquarters. He’d barely said two words to Kellan the whole time. Under the effects of the anesthetic, he was becoming a bit more talkative, though apparently no less depressed.
“Hold still,” Dr. Fait demanded, grabbing Orion’s chin and adjusting the angle of his head.
Kellan watched in silence as the doctor worked. Orion hadn’t offered any explanation of what she had witnessed. She hadn’t asked, but it was obvious it wasn’t good. He’d challenged Green Lucifer and lost, and all based on what Kellan had told him. She felt responsible for his situation and wanted to do something to help, but all she could do was watch and wait.
In a few moments, Dr. Fait completed her work and looked it over with a satisfied “hmmm.” She set the surgical stapler down on a nearby instrument tray and looked around.
“I’ll get some spray bandage for that,” she said. “Stay put, Tam, I’ll be right back.” Then she bustled out of the room and Orion laid his head back against the headrest of the chair with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes.
“Tam?” Kellan asked quietly, wondering if the elf ganger was drifting off to sleep.
“It’s short for Tamlin,” he said without opening his eyes. “A character from a poem my mother liked. He was a bard taken into faerie. She must have thought it was suitably elven.”
“So your mother was an elf?”
“No,” he muttered. “She was human. My father was an elf, though.”
“Where are your parents now?”
“Dead. My father died in the Night of Rage, right before I was born.
“My mom raised me alone in Tarislar,” Orion continued. “She was a doctor, like Christina,” he nodded toward the door through which Dr. Fait had gone. “They worked together at the hospital. Some chipped-out punker in the ER shot her when I was thirteen. I’ve been on my own since then.”
“I never knew my parents,” Kellan said. “Only my aunt. My only memories are of living with her. She said my mother abandoned me after my father ran off and abandoned her, but I’ve never believed that. I think there is more to it than my aunt ever told me. She never really wanted me there, but she was all the family I had.”
“The Ancients were my family,” Orion said. “I joined up with a gang when I was fifteen, the Si
lent Ps. A gang is the best way to stay alive when you live in the Barrens. The Spikes wiped out our gang a few years later, when Lord Torgo took over. The Ancients kind of adopted the survivors. I was proud to be an Ancient.”
“Tam… Can I call you that?”
The elf shrugged, which Kellan took as a yes.
“What happened back there?” she asked.
“The First Law,” Tamlin said. “I questioned Green Lucifer’s decision, challenged his judgment and his authority. That kind of thing has to be settled by a duel. I lost.”
“So… now what?”
“Now nothing,” the elf replied. “I lost. I’m not part of the Ancients anymore. I’m a goronagee—an outsider—not really even an elf anymore.” He squeezed his eyes closed.
“I am so sorry,” Kellan said. Orion slowly shook his head, his face relaxing as he sighed.
“Not your fault,” he said. “I challenged, I lost. It’s the way it is.”
“Well, it fraggin’ sucks.”
Orion laughed weakly, then pushed himself up on his elbows, opening his eyes.
“Sielle,” he said, looking at Kellan with his intense green eyes.
“What’s that?”
“Yeah, it sucks,” he replied with a chuckle. “Actually, it means, ‘it is so’ or ‘it is the way of things.’ It’s hard to translate exactly.”
“It’s elvish, right?”
Orion nodded. “Yeah, Sperethiel.”
“Do you speak it?”
“Not much,” he replied, settling back against the padded chair. “Just a few words and phrases I’ve picked up. A lot of the Ancients like Lucifer speak it fluently, but they were mostly raised with it. My mom was a norm, and I didn’t exactly go to school in the Land of Promise.”
The Land of Promise. Orion meant Tir Tairngire, the elven homeland south of Seattle. It occupied most of what was once southern Washington state in the old United States, claimed in the negotiations after the Ghost Dance by a coalition of elves backed by other Awakened races and creatures. To Kellan, Tir Tairngire sounded like a mystical land of faerie, ruled by a Council of Princes and filled with magic and mystery. Kellan had wondered what it must be like to live in such a place, and why anyone would ever leave it. Still, there were young elves who came to Seattle from Tir Tairngire every year, apparently including some of the Ancients.
“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” Kellan asked.
“Mostly self-taught,” he said. “I’ve got some Talent, too. I’m an adept.”
“Like a magician?”
The elf shook his head slowly. “No. My magic is all in here.” He tapped the fingers of his right hand against his chest. “It makes me stronger and faster— but apparently not fast enough.” His hand moved toward his face, but fell back to the chair before he touched the cut.
“Sorry,” Dr. Fait said, returning to the room. “You’re not the only one who got involved in some foolishness tonight.”
She used the canister of spray bandage to carefully apply a protective layer to the sutured cut on Orion’s face. The transparent bandage molded to his face, barely visible.
“You’ll metabolize the staples,” she said, checking over her handiwork. “Just keep it clean and try to stay away from any other sharp objects in the meantime.”
“Thanks, Tina,” Orion said, getting up slowly from the chair. The doctor’s businesslike demeanor softened a bit.
“Anytime, Tam, you know that. Is there anything else you need or—?” Orion cut her off with a shake of his head.
“No, thanks, not right now.”
“Okay, you know where to find me.”
As they left the clinic, Kellan, hands deep in the pockets of her jacket, turned to Orion.
“So now what?” she asked.
“Now nothing,” Orion replied. “We tried talking sense. It didn’t work. That’s it.”
“But you can’t just give up!” Kellan said.
“Look, Kellan,” the elf stopped and turned toward her. “I know you wanted to do the right thing, but it just doesn’t matter anymore. The Ancients aren’t going to listen. Whatever Brickman has planned is going to happen. We need to look out for ourselves, because it’s sure as hell nobody else is going to do it.” He gave a brief snort of laughter. “Maybe I can find work as a shadowrunner.”
“Yeah,” Kellan mused, “maybe you can, if you’re up for it.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve got an idea,” she replied, taking her phone out of her pocket and flipping it open. “If G-Dogg is willing to do me a favor…”
Silver Max and Liada arrived at Underworld 93 at almost the same time. The club was open, but it was early so there weren’t many people there yet. They made their way past Leif into the back room where Kellan, Orion and G-Dogg waited. When Liada saw Orion her eyes narrowed.
“What’s he doing here?” she asked, lifting her chin in his direction.
“He’s in on this,” Kellan said simply. Orion kept silent as the elf mage and the dwarf sat down, Silver Max in an overstuffed chair that almost engulfed him, Liada on a smaller upholstered chair to the right of the couch where Kellan and G-Dogg sat. Orion remained standing, leaning on one end of the couch, arms folded across his chest.
“So who are we waiting for?” Liada asked, glancing around the room.
“Nobody,” G-Dogg said. “We’re all here.”
“What about the Johnson?” Silver Max said.
“You’re lookin’ at her,” the ork replied with a grin, inclining his head toward Kellan.
Liada laughed—a bright, musical sound, though Kellan found it grating at that moment. Then she stopped and glanced from G-Dogg to Kellan and back, an incredulous look on her face.
“You’re serious,” she said. G-Dogg just nodded and Kellan leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
Here goes nothing.
“I’ve got a run, if you’re interested.”
“Just finished your first run in town and already you’re setting ’em up,” Silver Max said with a chuckle. “You sure don’t waste any time, kid.”
“You’re wasting our time,” Liada interjected, rising from her seat and picking up her shoulder bag. “I’m out of here.”
“Hang on,” Kellan said. “All I’m asking is for you to listen to what I’ve got to say. If you’re not interested, that’s fine. I’m sure there’s plenty of other shadowrunners around willing to make some money.”
Liada paused and looked at Kellan more carefully. She glanced over at Silver Max, who nodded slightly.
“Okay,” she said, sinking back down into her seat. “You’ve got five minutes. Then I’m gone. What’s this supposed run about?”
“Payback,” Kellan said with a smile. She told the others what she’d discovered about Brickman and their run on the Ares shipment, and about her encounter with Green Lucifer and Orion’s sudden departure from the Ancients, although she left out the details of the fight.
She explained what she suspected about Brickman selling weapons—or the routes of weapons shipments—to both the Spikes and the Ancients. She also showed them the data Jackie acquired from the Ares system.
“So what’s this got to do with us?” Silver Max asked, and all eyes shifted back to Kellan.
“Simple,” she replied. “I’ve got the information on the shipping route Mr. Johnson—Brickman—supplied, and Jackie has data from Ares about a shipment of weapons coming in along that route. The Ancients are set up to take that shipment, but we could hit it before they do.”
“And what’s in it for us?” the dwarf rigger persisted, though the tone of his voice said he was intrigued.
“The shipment,” Kellan said. “It would be worth plenty to the right people—after we get first pick, of course.”
Silver Max nodded sagely, his thick beard parting with a tight smile. Liada shook her head.
“Why should we cross Brickman, or the Ancients?” she asked. “That’s a lot of potential trouble for jus
t a shipment of guns.”
G-Dogg spoke up before Kellan could answer. “You mean, aside from taking away Brickman’s advantage over us?” The ork counted off reasons on his fingers, leaning forward and resting his elbow on one knee. “There’s cred to be made off that shipment. Nobody’s going to be expecting anyone else to go after it, since they figure nobody else knows. It hacks off the Ancients and, if we do it right, Brickman isn’t even going to know it was us. The Ancients might, but I know how you feel about them, Liada.”
The elven mage glanced at Orion for a moment before returning her attention to Kellan. “Who else is in on this?” she asked.
“Just us,” Kellan said, “and Jackie Ozone. She helped dig up the data and she can provide the Matrix overwatch, same as last time. Shouldn’t be that hard—after all, we already did it once, right?”
“What about Lothan?” Liada asked. Her expression remained guarded, but Kellan figured that since she was still talking, she must be interested.
“He already made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with this,” Kellan said, “but if you’re not interested, Liada, we probably will need another mage….”
The elf broke into a slow smile. “You really think that’s going to make up my mind?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Kellan said smiling back in spite of herself. “Depends on how willing you are to take a chance… and how much better than Lothan you think you can do the job.”
There was a long pause as the two women regarded each other, then Liada grinned. “Well, since you put it that way,” she said, “why not? I’m in.”
“Me, too,” Silver Max said and G-Dogg nodded, affirming his interest. Kellan looked around at the gathered shadowrunners, a combination of triumph and anxiety fighting inside her.
“Okay,” she said, “here’s what we’re going to need to do. First, I think there’s one other person we should talk to….”
16
They found the Street Deacon sitting in his customary spot at Crusher 495 in Redmond. This time, Kellan went with both G-Dogg and Orion, the elf warrior insisting on being there for the meet. Same as last time, the Deacon didn’t acknowledge the arrival of the shadowrunners as they approached him. He simply sat at the bar, nursing his drink.
[Shadowrun 41] - Born to Run Page 15
