The Gift of Magic (The Shadowmage Saga)

by Paul Sobol

  Out of earshot Archer whispered so only he could hear, “He’s a Minion – a human willing to serve a vampire or magician. What you saw around him were various spells binding him to his masters Will. That man is nothing more than a puppet. Useful, and dangerous, minions often act as the eyes and ears, going places the dark ones dare not.”

  “I thought they were called Familiars?”

  “You’ve been watching too many movies,” Archer replied, “A Familiar is usually an animal or creature summoned to do a magicians bidding. Minions are driven to serve through the promise of being rewarded.”

  Nearing the bottom of the darkened stairway, Archer paused. Glancing back up she could no longer see the entrance, but knew the Minion was still lurking in the shadows. She hoped he was just far away enough otherwise their ruse was going to fail completely. Archer made several gestures with her hands, and Alex felt the familiar touch of magic, but this was different – it felt somehow wrong.

  Alex could only describe it as being dirty; as though covered in oil, excrement and blood, all at the same time. It was as if Archer’s magic was tainted, and it now covered him from head to toe. “Don’t worry it is only temporary. This spell will mask our auras to give the impression we’re actually very evil.”

  “If this is how Dark magicians feel I really don’t want to join their side.”

  “There aren’t many who are this bad. To any ‘undead’ or magician we’re the equivalent of a Demon Lord, so they’re not likely to stop us or interfere with our business.”

  At the bottom of the stairs they came upon a single door. The techno music coming from the other side was so loud Alex could feel the very air vibrating to the beat. Drawing a little mana he cast a small protective field inside his ears, and as the door opened he was extremely grateful he had.

  The Underworld was chaos incarnate. The darkness beyond the door was punctuated by rhythmic explosions of strobe-lights. Psychedelic lasers sliced through the smoke-filled room, occasionally illuminating some distant corner where clubbers writhed and gyrated to the physical presence of death metal and electronica. At one point several laser beams intersected a mirror-ball, and the entire dance floor was riddled with a thousand colourful points of light.

  Looking around, Alex noted the denizens of the Goth subculture were mostly clad in skimpy skin-tight black leather outfits. Chains dangling from multiple impossible piercings that looked rather painful were more prevalent than anything else, and for a moment Alex forgot he was similarly attired. Shedding the uneasy feeling he was a lamb in wolfs clothing Alex tried to blend in with the crowd. Archer was already moving off in the direction of the bar, and not wanting to be left alone hurried to keep up with her.

  Approaching the bartender, Archer leant over and, despite the loud music, managed to pass on a message. After a moment’s thought the young man nodded and disappeared through a back door. Before long he returned, but not alone. The newcomer, another Minion, could have been twin to the first encountered outside the red door, and Alex wondered where people like this were hired. Maybe there was an agency for goons and henchmen, although the requirements would be tough to meet unless you were over six foot and built like a tank.

  Brains not required: we do the thinking for you.

  Ok, so the slogan needed some work, but Alex couldn’t help but wonder why someone would willingly choose to become a slave. The promised reward of immortality as a blood-sucking vampire might appeal to some, but these bouncers didn’t look the type to fall for that line. Sheepishly, Alex realised he had missed the exchange between Archer and suited gorilla. I really should stop daydreaming about stupid things.

  The bouncer motioned for them to follow, and slowly they meandered through the crowd of clubbers. The overwhelming presence of the towering gorilla should have been enough to move the mindless dancers aside, but the more Alex got jostled the more he got annoyed. Unintentionally he drew on some mana, and like Moses parted the sea. Metaphorically speaking.

  Dancers were unexpectedly pushed aside by an invisible force and a clear path was created for the two mages plus bouncer. More than one patron felt slighted at being mistreated, but taking a look at the trio decided to mind their own business and dance elsewhere.

  “Whatever you do, don’t use any more magic in here. This club is owned by a Dark magician who has wards against magic everywhere. You’re lucky they didn’t disintegrate you instantly.”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I just feel so…angry.”

  “I know,” she said in a consolatory tone, “just think happy thoughts in the meanwhile, hopefully this won’t take too long.”

  “If this club is owned by a dark mage, how come you haven’t taken him out yet? Is he too powerful?”

  “No. He actually works for the Order on occasion, when it suits him. As a younger magician he made some stupid decisions, fell in with the wrong crowd, and ended up regretting his mistakes. Unfortunately redemption is hard to come by these days, so he helps us out from time to time which has earned him a reprieve from oblivion. However, despite his seemingly innocent intentions, don’t trust him for a second.”

  “So he’s like a double-agent, working for us but wants to appear as though still working for the other side.”

  “Something like that yes, but if he feels it’s in his best interest, or if the price were high enough, he’ll betray us without hesitation.”

  Heading up a nearby flight of stairs the two disguised magicians were led to a private roped off area. Bouncer number two took up position at the top of the stairs making sure no one else could gain access. The mezzanine overlooked the clubs dance floor and bar, and from this vantage point the owner can see everything that occurred. Thick glass panels surrounding the landing reduced the music to a dull thud, felt more through the soles of their feet than heard.

  Once inside the private area Archer made her way to the bar and ordered a drink. The man behind the counter was in the process of mixing a cocktail when they arrived, and after a few more shakes unerringly poured the concoction into three martini glasses. The blue drinks were finished with a single red cherry, speared through the centre by a tiny umbrella, and left on the counter to be taken.

  Without hesitation Archer picked up the middle glass. Alex chose the closest drink and waited. Unsure if this was a harmless gesture of greeting, or possibly a sinister game of Russian roulette, Alex was hesitant to drink the azure liquid. The bartender picked up the third glass, and raising it up in salute downed the drink in one gulp. The cherry disappeared next and all that remained in the martini glass was the small umbrella.

  With a satisfied ‘Ahh’ he set the glass down and looked expectantly at the two before him. Archer’s unwavering gaze never left the man, and in similar fashion downed the glasses contents. She did however, leave the cherry.

  Under normal circumstances, Alex would be extremely cautious when accepting strange drinks, especially from someone he didn’t know. But what made this situation worse he suspected he was being served by the supposedly former dark mage himself.

  Taking a tentative sniff of the blue contents, Alex detected nothing out of the ordinary with the drink. Like his companions, he swallowed it down in one go, and then ate the cherry as if to say he never doubted the contents, or the person who served it.

  The bartender nodded in silent congratulations. As magicians go he looked aged, weather-worn and lined with a lifetime’s experiences. He looked European; well-tanned like an old Greek, but without the usual facial features or, judging from the costly suit material maybe Italian.

  “Well met Archer,” said the bartender in a thick Russian accent, finally revealing his origin, “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “I need some information Hades, and you’re the best source I’ve got.”

  “Reliable information is a hard thing to come by these days. As I recall, the last time I offered you ‘information’, things did not turn out so well for me. Need I remind you of the time in Sm
olensk, when you almost got us killed by the KGB.”

  “That’s ancient history Hades, besides, you got out alive. And if we’re playing that game, need I remind you of the time in Odessa, when I saved you from an entire platoon of German soldiers and cadre of zombie S.S.”

  Hades laughed deeply.

  “The ‘undead’ Schutzstaffel were rather irritating. Ever since Hitler renewed the occult wars, things got decidedly tougher for us. Too many evil relics of the past were dug up and used to propagate his hatred. Once the S.S. began experimenting on captured magicians it was only a matter of time before they created an abomination.”

  “Getting sentimental in your old age Hades?” Archer teased.

  “Merely reminiscing, my old comrade. The war was simpler when you knew who the enemy was, but now, things have become more complicated.” Hades turned around and grabbed an old bottle from behind a stack of Smirnoff vodka and began pouring out three shots of clear liquid. “Na zdorov'ya.” With that simple salute the three magicians downed the clear fiery contents.

  Appreciating the smoothness of the vodka Alex could only wonder at its age. The cheaper imported brands were like drinking nail-polish remover, but this stuff was the best he had ever tried.

  Pouring round after round, the three mages continued drinking until the bottle was finished. Not a heavy drinker, Alex was having difficulty feeling anything in his extremities, and was pretty sure the room was tilting rather precariously. Looking over at his companion he was a little surprised, even annoyed, that she hardly seemed affected by the potent liquor. Hades, on the other hand, was laughing loudly at some ancient joke recollected many years ago, but eventually gave up after several failed attempts to retell accurately.

  Getting back to business, Archer leaned over the bar and grabbed Hades hand before he could pour more drink. “Hades, we need to know about the Gathering. We know it is Friday night, and we suspect someone may be foolish enough to actually try and resurrect Khaldun.”

  “Impossible!” Hades exclaimed, “It would require a large number of magicians and 'undead' to channel the necessary power for a resurrection of that magnitude. I should know, we attempted it three centuries ago and lost a lot of mages in the process. Many couldn’t handle the strain of so much power that they simply incinerated where they stood. If someone was trying to rally enough Dark creatures then it has been kept secret even from me.”

  “Does Pennsylvania mean anything?”

  Hades paused for a moment before answering, but Alex got the impression he was deciding what information to reveal and what to keep secret. “There is little significance about that area, however, if someone wanted to perform a resurrection, it would require a lot of power. Seek your answer in the ground.”

  “I was afraid of that. Anyone here you suspect might know about it?”

  “I’ve had several groups of vampires arrive in the past few days. Most are down in the catacombs sleeping but should be arising soon.” Alex wondered how the magician knew what time it was since there were no visible clocks, and the dark club gave the impression of perpetual night.

  “It’s a start,” said Archer, who was already off her barstool and making for the exit. “Stay out of trouble old soldier.”

  “Ha! No doubt you’ll be getting into plenty soon enough comrades,” replied Hades drunkenly, “but before you go, I have something to tell you.”

  Motioning for the two to come closer, as though about to reveal an unbelievable conspiracy, the Russian spoke in a slightly more sobered tone, “Khaldun must not be raised. If you thought he was big trouble before, you’ve seen nothing yet. That devil has had plenty of time to grow some new horns, and should he set foot upon this world he will cover it in darkness.

  “A long time ago, he was a High Priest in Egypt called Okpara. It is believed he learned the art of raising the dead directly from Osiris, but with an insatiable lust for power he stole a secret tome revealing the darkest of magics. Without Osiris’ help he was unable to fully comprehend the spells construction, but with enough experimentation he managed to unlock some of the secrets. Gaining vast power over the living and dead he came close to true immortality. Changing his name to Khaldun he spent the next several thousand years wiping out entire civilisations trying to perfect his magic, and during the Second Mage War almost succeeded. One of his plague experiments resulted in an unexpected mutation – his subjects gained inhuman strength, speed, longevity, and superior regenerative ability. The downside: the subjects were technically dead, and because of this they neither produced nor collected mana necessary to power these newly acquired abilities.

  “As you only now come to realise, he helped create the vampiric race. That in itself was quite impressive, but the unholy bastard took it a step further in his quest for true immortality – for every person infected with the vampiric plague he was able to syphon a little mana from them. Over time, as his ‘undead’ minions grew in number, Khaldun gained so much power he came to believe he was invincible, and during the Mage War he almost proved it. With the combined efforts of many magicians he was mortally wounded beyond any healing aid and left to die. Unfortunately he crawled into the darkest hole he could find and eventually re-emerged unscathed. Some believed he had died but having made a pact with a dark god or demon he was restored to life. If Khaldun truly shares immortality with the gods, then he must remain exiled and imprisoned.”

  Waving the Minion at the door to let them pass, Hades reached for his glass, but seeing it empty scowled and grasped under the bar for another bottle.

  As though familiar with the club’s layout, Archer unerringly led Alex down winding corridors and past several sets of locked doors, until reaching another flight of stairs leading down. By now Alex had only slightly sobered and was completely disorientated. He was amazed his companion even knew her way through the warren that was the Underworld club.

  Minutes later, and down a winding stairwell, the two finally made it to what was accurately named The Catacombs. Rough stone walls formed narrow corridors interspersed with niches large enough to house a coffin. If Alex had to guess there were at least a hundred spaces for the wooden boxes, and by the dim light of evenly spaced globes he could see most held occupants.

  Without hesitation Archer went to the closest coffin and opened the lid. The vampire within opened his eyes at the sudden intrusion. With supernaturally quick reflexes, Archer grabbed the ‘undead’ by the throat preventing an outcry. “Where is the Gathering?”

  When no answer was given she crushed his windpipe and tore out his throat. The vampire slowly incinerated, and by the time they had moved to the next coffin the charred remains had crumbled into a small pile of ash. “I know elves are strong, but that seemed a little excessive. I thought we couldn’t use magic?”

  “Fortunately for us, Hade’s wards against magic only extend a few levels, and we’re well beneath that,” she replied.

  After the third uncooperative vampire, Alex decided it would be more productive if they split up. The opposite coffin was occupied, and opening it came face to face with a beautiful young woman. Stunningly gorgeous, she appeared to be in her early twenties, well-proportioned in all the right places, and luscious red hair the colour of fire.

  Then she woke up.

  Caught off guard and almost overwhelmed, Alex struggled to control the young blood-sucker who was furiously trying to demote him to the rank of 'undead'. Mana infused his arms with super strength, a bit more than was actually necessary, and stepping back from the sudden shower of blood realised he was holding the girl’s severed head. What a way to go, he thought groggily. Could have cleanly broken her neck, but no, you had to rip it off her shoulders. Alex one, vampire zero.

  Alerted by the commotion Archer came to investigate. Clearly unimpressed, she merely smacked Alex upside the head. “Stop fooling around, this is serious. We need to find the location of the Gathering and you’re in no state to be using magic.” Sheepishly, Alex didn’t feel like arguing and silently follow
ed Archer to her next potential victim.

  Most of the vampires they awoke were unwilling to divulge any information, either out of ignorance or sheer stubbornness. Some even realised the futility of the situation and tried to resist, but vampiric strength was no match for magically enhanced elven might.

  After what must have been the thirtieth or fortieth vampire they eventually hit the jackpot. This particular vampire had not been invited to the Gathering, but had gleaned the location from overhearing some of his kind discussing it. “Thank you. I was going to spare your life, but it’s been a long day and many of your kind have been too inconvenient.”

  Not bothering to hide her contempt, Archer yet again brushed ashes from her hands, and looked forward to applying some much-needed moisturiser.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The night was perfectly still. Not even a breath of wind stirred the leaves in the trees, and all the nocturnal animals that should be about were quiet. The forest, a place of shadows and ominous silences, was more active than usual. On this most auspicious night, when the moon was new and dark, a host gathered to pay homage to one of their own fallen brethren.

  Over a hundred Dark creatures ate and drank the flesh and blood of innocent humans who had been stolen from nearby townships and dragged off into the forest screaming. They were the guests of honour. It is their blood that would serve as catalyst for the resurrection spell already being prepared by red-robed magicians.

  In a clearing near the forest’s centre a huge bonfire sent sparkling embers spiralling towards the heavens, where the orgy of sex and blood had already overwhelmed quite a few as they danced and cavorted naked, singing ancient paeans to evil spirits in a bid to summon yet more unholy power. Only with Hell’s favour would it be possible to return Khaldun to the realm of the living, and the payment for such an exchange was sure to be steep.