by Ben Hale
By now the trunk had thinned to the width of a small car, but the gold thread on the ground continued to tell her to climb. After passing another handful of rooms, the thread reached an end—at the last and highest cabin in the tree. She followed the trail and saw that the thread had encircled the cabin, clearly marking her destination as room 313.
She followed the stairs and reached for the door, but hesitated. Was she supposed to have a key? Should she go back down and find someone to ask? She tried the door anyway, and found it locked. Annoyed, she looked to the rim of her glasses for the answer. She found it in a small key symbol on the upper-left corner. She glanced at it and heard a click.
She tried the door again and it opened at her touch. Pushing inside, she squinted in the darkness and sought for a light switch. When she didn't find one, she looked for the light itself. In the center of the room a large bowl hung from the ceiling. She reached toward it and it glowed. She froze, and then waved her hand again. It brightened in response and light flooded the room.
Blinking at the brilliance, she found herself in a spacious, lofty cabin with two beds. A pair of smooth, darkwood desks sat on opposite sides of the room. Twin closets stood to the right of the entrance, and a bathroom sat in the corner on her left. An enormous set of glass doors dominated the back wall, allowing the waning light to enter the space.
One side of the room had already been claimed. Odd gadgets and what looked to be glowing computer parts were organized into neat rows across the desk, walls, and every available inch of floor on that side.
Above her roommate's bed, a frame rested on the wall, but in place of a painting the image was more like a television. In silence, it showed a pretty girl with purple streaks in her hair next to a statuesque woman with matching hair. The resemblance was uncanny.
Between them, static electricity crackled as a thousand sparks melded into an object she couldn't identify. The viewpoint gradually rotated around the smiling mother and daughter, and when it returned to the front the sequence began again. The painting frame opposite the occupied bed was empty.
Tess checked the bathroom and the closets first. Then she spotted her bags at the foot of the empty bed. Sinking onto its surface, she found the symbol on her spectacles for a phone. Activating it with a glance, she dialed the numbers by looking at them. Unfamiliar with the system, it took three attempts before she was able to do it correctly. Then she confirmed it and held her breath until she heard the first ring.
"Hello?" Her mom picked up before the second ring had expired.
"Hey Mom," Tess said, smiling at the sense of home that flooded her.
"Jack, it's Tess!" her mother yelled, and a moment later he linked into the call.
"Honey? Are you ok?" he asked. Even over the phone she could hear his worry.
"I'm fine," she said, a knot rising in her throat. "Colorado . . . is better than I could have expected."
"I'm so glad you called," her mother said, the relief evident in her voice. "We tried your cell a few times and couldn't get through. What number are you calling us from?"
Tess glanced at her pocket. Why had she not even considered using her phone? "My dorm room," she replied. "There isn't much reception here on my cell, so this is probably the better number to reach me." It annoyed her how easily the lies came.
"Are you all settled then?" her father asked. "Do you have your schedule and everything?"
"I do, dad. My classes actually sound exciting." At least that part was true.
"Are you safe?" he asked.
"I can take care of myself, Dad. You taught me that. And don't worry, I have my pepper spray with me."
Her father grunted in acknowledgement. Then her mother said, "You promised to call us as often as you can, remember?"
It sounded like her mom was bursting to ask more, but Tess didn't feel up to lying. "I will, Mom. I promise. Can I talk to you tomorrow?"
"Um . . . okay honey. I love you," her mother said, and her dad echoed the statement.
Tess hated the reluctance she heard in her parent's voices. "I love you too. I will call you when I can."
They said their goodbyes and Tess ended the call. Releasing a long sigh, she took off the glasses and discarded them on her bed. After staring at her roommate’s things for a while she rose to her feet. She strode to the back of the room and opened the double doors. Stepping through them, she found herself on a wide, covered balcony. Cautiously she stepped onto it, and then forced herself to go to the railing and look down.
This high in the tree the branches were not as dense, allowing for a large opening around the back of her cabin. The result was a clear view all the way to the lake two hundred feet below. Lights from a few of the other rooms twinkled from inside the foliage. The lake itself was illuminated by the meal halls. By the activity coming from them, it seemed they were preparing for tomorrow.
She shuddered at the height, and turned her gaze to the last vestiges of light from the setting sun. In minutes it sank below the ring of clouds that protected the city. She watched until long after her balcony had fallen into darkness.
"What have I gotten myself into?" she whispered.
Chapter 8: The Guildmaster
Hawk watched Tess go with a twinge of regret. Although he wasn't related to her, he felt an almost paternal desire to protect her. He'd guarded her for her entire life, and even closer in the last few months. Part of him wished she'd asked more about her parents, but he also feared giving her the answers. It seemed she thought her parents were dead—or she didn't believe him. Either way it was an assumption that he was grateful for, even if he felt guilty for withholding the truth. Was he guiding her correctly? Or would she be crushed between two sides of a world she did not know?
He sighed and turned away. Instead of returning north he headed east, and strode through the trees toward the gravity building. He paused at the corner and checked to make sure no one was following him. Then he slid up the side of the structure to the great field where flyers learned their craft.
Wide and empty, the field was boxed in by twin rows of trees. A low wall rested at the opposite end. He followed the south row of trees, hugging the shadows as he worked his way to the barrier that blocked anyone from inadvertently falling off the edge of the city.
Again he paused to check for anyone in sight. There was always the possibility that a techno mage was watching him, but he knew that no person was. He scanned for spots of heat that would indicate a body. Seeing no one, he jumped to the top of the wall. With a deft twist he swung himself over.
In five seconds he was approaching terminal velocity. A few seconds later he burst free of the cloudwall and the air cleared. He glanced up as he fell and wondered when the world had become so complicated. A long time ago it had seemed so easy. Then technology had developed like a weed—among the mages and the aurens.
In the span of a decade techno mages had gone from unknown to essential. Their quirks and habits were quickly overlooked in favor of what they could do. As much as the gravity mages had done lifting Auroraq into the sky, it was the techno mages that had truly made it possible. He sighed, and felt the loss of simpler times.
The wind screamed and whipped his clothing to the point of tearing, but he'd already begun to change shape. He shuddered as his bones shifted and grew, and his organs squished into different positions. A feather pattern appeared on his arms, and then they melted into massive wings. His boots and feet faded into great claws, and his body formed into that of a gigantic bird.
His clothing changed with him, and he felt a flash of gratitude that he'd spent the time practicing that trick. It may have taken him decades, but it was worth it. Last to go, his cloak faded into his feathered back, and his skull formed a hooked beak and piercing eyes. Fully transformed, Hawk banked out of his fall and curved east.
He soared through the night, enjoying the rush of cool air. The clouds were thin below him, offering a relatively uninterrupted view of the landscape far below. Lights dotted
the central United States, but were congregated at the cities. He wondered how the aurens would respond if they ever saw him.
He had the cover of night, but he had a good distance to go before morning. Steering clear of the commercial flight paths, he flew east. North America gradually slid by, until it ended at the Atlantic Ocean. The cloud cover thickened as he flew over a storm. Taking advantage of the obscurity, he poured more magic into his flight.
Tongues of fire blossomed behind him, causing him to accelerate. Two planes crossed his path in the next few hours, forcing him to extinguish the fire and duck into the clouds. In spite of the delays, he spotted the shores of Ireland sometime around two in the morning. Shifting south, he passed around it until he could see England. Then he followed the southern shore until a stretch of white cliffs came into view.
Seeing his destination, he released his spell and folded his wings. Wind billowed past him, but he didn't pull out of his dive until just before the water's surface. Banking toward the cliff, he flew through the salty spray coming off the waves. His keen eyes scanned for watercraft, but he wasn't too worried due the hour of his approach.
He saw no one, so he angled his path toward the cliffs. A wing length from it he banked straight up. The cliff glided by, slowing as his direction sapped his speed. When the top came into view he began to shift. His momentum slowed further as he lost his wings. He'd angled his ascent well, and like a feather on the breeze he sailed over the top in full human form.
He landed in a crouch on level ground. Feigning indifference in case he'd been spotted, he strolled toward the road a short distance away. Withdrawing a small object from his pocket, he tapped it twice and then tossed it onto the dark street. The item clattered to a stop—and then began to grow. It swelled and expanded like a balloon, stretching and widening. Tires and doors appeared first, then the seats and an engine. Then a gleaming roof and hood solidified into place. A moment later a sleek, fire red BMW Z4 sat on the road.
Hawk stepped into the driver's seat and flooded the engine with his magic. Custom built, it revved loud in response to his touch. He smiled to himself, and then flicked the lights before stomping on the accelerator.
The car peeled away and pierced the darkness. Five minutes later Hawk was traveling much faster than the speed limit. Dodging the lighter traffic, he slowed when he neared London. Even at three in the morning there was still plenty of movement on the streets. An hour later he parked in an alley in south London, and ran his finger along the steering wheel as he exited. With the sound of a creaky door closing, it shrank to its former size. Hawk collected the tiny metal car and returned it to his pocket. Then he exited the alley and walked into the slums nearby.
Hawk strode down the street, crinkling his nose at the smell. This part of London was old, and renowned for its criminal activity. No less than three times in the next thirty minutes he was assaulted. A stare turned away the first two. He melted the knife of the third and the kid bolted.
He frowned to himself. Why had Reese wanted to meet in such a locale? If he wasn't their sole contact with the Harbingers, Hawk would have argued the location. As it was, he couldn't afford to lose this link. It had taken five years to find and cultivate him as an informant. Not that the Guild hadn't tried to turn others, but they had all ended up dead before Hawk could get any real information.
He hoped this time would result in some credible insight into their foe. He knew that the organization had existed for centuries, but twenty years ago there had been a shift in leadership. In the span of a month all of Hawk's informants had evaporated. Only two of the bodies had been discovered, and the aurens had labeled them as suicides.
Some in the Guild had warned this meeting could be a trap. Hawk had been quick to outwardly dismiss that notion. In his gut he knew it was likely, which was why he was going himself. He wouldn't risk anyone else. Besides, if he allowed the Harbingers to think they had caught him he might be able to glean some information. He had no doubt the true leader would not be present, but people tended to let information slip when they gloated.
He took the last turn and followed a dirty alley until it ended in a darkened courtyard. He paused to scan the circle of buildings. Three of them looked abandoned. The fourth appeared to be an empty warehouse. Lit by a pair of old streetlamps, the cracked concrete square reeked of rust and decay.
Hawk resumed his pace and came to a stop at the center. After a moment Reese dodged out of the shadows and came to meet him, his arm twitching in nervousness. On anyone else it would have been a sure sign of something off, but on Reese it was the norm. Short and skinny, Reese was a low-level animal mage with a talent for rats. Hawk privately thought the ability was indicative.
"I didn't expect you," Reese whined. "I thought James was coming."
Hawk shrugged. James was a sound and light mage that worked for the Magical Transportation Agency. He was also one of Hawk's lieutenants, and the normal contact for Reese.
"What do you have for me," Hawk said.
Reese's eyes twitched to the side. "Do you have the marks?"
"Information first, Reese. You know our rules."
Reese shifted and scratched his shoulder. "I just didn't expect you to be here."
"You act like it’s the first time we've met. Now, are you going to tell me what I want to know?"
Reese wheezed a laugh, but it sounded forced and off-key, even for him. His eyes slid off Hawk's face, betraying fear. The look could have been nothing, but the flash of anticipation was unmistakable.
On instinct Hawk spun and brought a wall of fire up. Deflected by the blast, a rod of steel ricocheted aside, and plunged into the ground a few inches from Hawk's foot. The crunch of its impact resounded loud and hollow in the square. Then the figures began to appear.
A hooded man rose into view in a window, and then another, and then three more. A handful appeared on the roofs, and more than a dozen stepped out of the alleys, clogging every point of egress. Collectively they came to a halt.
Hawk sighed and turned to Reese, but he'd already scurried away. In his place a tall hooded figure stepped from the crowd. Apparently wary of Hawk, he remained close to his companions.
"We know who you are, Hawk."
Hawk felt a flash of fear. If they knew his secret they could do incalculable damage. Then the figure continued.
"You are the Guildmaster of a group that has outlived its purpose."
Hawk gave a low chuckle of relief. The sound merely served to amplify the tension in the courtyard. They only knew that he led the Guild, which wasn't anything that Hawk considered vital.
"We protect the peace between aurens and mages," Hawk replied. "Is that role so obsolete?"
He gave a bark of scornful laughter. "Mages are more powerful in every way. Why should we hide in the shadows when we can do so much more? Wars, famine, even disasters could be prevented if we—ˮ
"Conquered them?" Hawk asked. "So that is your design."
The voice was young, more like a teenager than an adult. Perhaps if Hawk kept him talking he would betray more of himself.
The figure bared his teeth in a snarl. "It does not matter what I tell you now. You will be dead by the time the sun rises."
"How would you manage to conquer them?" Hawk’s voice was riddled with scorn. "We may be powerful, but so are the aurens now. We would need an army to do as you suggest."
The figure began to laugh, deep and taunting. "Perhaps we will have one, Hawk."
He then dismissed him with a wave, and in the movement Hawk caught something he'd missed before. The figure bore a scar across the palm. Odd for a mage to bear a permanent scar, for a healer could usually repair the skin in time. And yet the mark was undeniably made by fire. Hawk stiffened as a thought crossed his mind. The scar was as if a powerful firewall had erupted when he'd reached forward . . .
Anger blossomed across Hawk's frame and fire burst onto his forearms in response. "You would have taken her."
The figure smirked. "We k
now who she is, too. And next time, we will not fail." He gave a signal to his surrounding forces and then jumped into the air. As he flew past the roof he called down. "Make sure the Guild can't find his body."
Hawk didn't hesitate. In his true form he could have leveled the entire neighborhood, but he couldn't risk someone seeing him—not now. But just because he couldn't access his full power didn't mean he was powerless.
Magic blossomed in the hands of his attackers, but Hawk was quicker. Clenching his fists together at his gut, he gathered power on his knuckles. Then he ripped his hands apart. A sphere of white fire exploded around him. Two feet thick and ten feet high, it roiled and pressed, boosting the heat into the hotter blue spectrum. Fireballs, water spears, and other spells failed to pierce it. Each was burnt to a crisp on the attempt.
For a few heartbeats Hawk watched the ineffectual attempts to slay him. It was a rare opportunity to evaluate his enemy's strength. What he saw caused him to frown. The fireballs being cast were large and orange, suggesting very talented mages, as did the streams of water, which lanced across his fire-shield like fire hoses. They burst into steam at the contact. And the gravity mages were equally as strong.
One launched an entire dumpster at him. It deflected off at an angle, its metal glowing red hot as the bottom corner melted. Another pulled the streetlamp out and tried to hit him—concrete base and all. It too melted in half. Hawk blew out his breath in frustration. If this was the best the Harbingers had in their ranks, it was bad. But the ambush had not been intended for him.
It had been intended for James.
Powerful in his own right, his lieutenant would have been killed in seconds from such an onslaught. A long-buried fury suddenly bubbled inside Hawk. James was a good friend, as were several of the others who had been killed by the Harbingers.
