Shadowstrut

Shadowstrut Page 2

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  Tessa, the proprietor of the Moving Market, wouldn’t sell me LITE ammunition, not because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t. No one could. My rounds were not available in stores. You couldn’t buy LITE rounds anywhere, especially not in the Moving Market. I had created the LITE rounds. They were dangerous, lethal, highly unstable, and probably frowned upon by any of the governing bodies operating in the city.

  Rummers may be the size of average humans, but that didn’t mean they were harmless. They were faster, stronger, and more resilient than normals. Redrum gave them heightened senses, night vision, enhanced hearing, and an insane sense of smell. A mindless, deadly package. They only had one major flaw I could exploit, which was that a few seconds of concentrated UV radiation led to an explosive messy end.

  Enter, LITE rounds.

  Without the entropy, LIT rounds were making the new and improved rummers laugh. Somehow, the new strain of Redrum was giving them immunity to LIT ammunition, taking three or four rounds to end them. Some of the rummers had even been spotted during the day not spontaneously bursting into piles of ash. This was the nightmare Lyrra wanted to unleash on the city—super UV-resistant rummers. I thought I had caught it in time.

  I was wrong.

  Now I was facing, what…dark, UV-resistant rummers? This insanity was getting out of hand.

  I materialized Darkspirit again.

 

  “We have a situation.”

  I let my senses expand, and I felt the approaching rummers. There were easily six to ten of them. It was hard to get a reading because of the throbbing in my head, and because of their diffused energy signature. They read as one large group, but it was hard to break them down into individual threats.

 

  “You’re being picky…now?”

 

  “I could always use Fatebringer. It won’t give me attitude.”

 

  “Yes. It happens to fire when I pull the trigger and, remarkably, has nothing to say about my targets.”

 

  Izanami was probably right. I was sensing more than ten as the rummers got closer.

  “I’m glad my welfare and safety are such a priority to you.”

 

  “Would hate to inconvenience you.”

 

  “Imagine that…a vampire opting not to use you. I suppose it wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that no vampire is strong enough to wield you without turning to ash?”

 

  The rummers were approaching slowly. They must have sensed Darkspirit, which wasn’t surprising. She gave off a decidedly dark vibe that whispered ‘get closer, so I can eat you.’

  “I’ll do the wielding and you do the cutting—that’s how this works, last time I checked.”

 

  “Besides a colossal pain in my ass?”

 

  “Works for me. If you have a point, get to it. These rummers don’t look like the patient type. Only thing keeping them away right now is your welcoming presence.”

 

  “We can have a heart-to-blade later…spit it out.”

 

  Shit.

  I was still getting used to this whole ‘being bonded to a blood-thirsty blade’ situation. What she’d just described sounded unpleasant…especially when rummers were involved.

 

  This was getting worse by the second. I cast a spell. The dull throbbing spiked into the stratosphere for a second, and then it calmed down.

  “You may be a siphon, but that doesn’t mean I have to take what you’re giving.”

 

  “I’d like to think so.”

 

  “Let’s find out,” I said as the first rummer lunged at me.

  FOUR

  I was never big on blades.

  I could use them, every Night Warden could, but it wasn’t my preferred method of fighting.

  Edged weapons required the user to get close. For most of the creatures I dealt with, distance was my friend. No one wanted to dance with an angry ogre, or a mob of rummers if you can take them down from a distance instead.

  Besides, rummers smelled like hell. Their bodies were decomposing, only kept intact by the effects of the Redrum and the turning. The last thing I needed, or wanted, was a lungful of eau de putrescence. I’d rather take a tour of the New York City sewers without a breathing apparatus.

  The spell I cast shunted the energy Darkspirit absorbed back into the blade, making it a repository, of sorts. I had a feeling Izanami just didn’t want to hold on to tainted rummer energy.

  “What the hell is taking so long, old man?” Koda’s voice came over my comms. “You get lost down there?”

  I slid to the side and slashed horizontally, bisecting the rummer at the waist. It burst into dust. That wasn’t odd. Rummers usually disintegrated when hit by LITE rounds or a blade like Darkspirit.

  What was odd was that only one rummer attacked. They usually moved in swarms and attacked as a group, using superior numbers to overwhelm their targets.

  These rummers were acting peculiar. It was almost as if they were studying me, looking for a weakness to exploit. Whatever was in the darkness could mask their presence and control their default behavior.

  “Stay over there and keep Street away from the park,” I said quickly. “I got rummers here, and they’re acting strange.”

  “What do you mean, strange?”

  “It’s hard to describe…they’re waiting.”

  “Waiting?” Koda asked. “What do you mean ‘they’re waiting’? Waiting for what?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “Stay out of the park and keep Street back.”

  “Rummers aren’t the only ones acting strange tonight.”

  “If I need help, which I won’t, I’ll let you know.”

  “I’m taking Street to Haven,” she answered. “He’s getting agitated, and the last thing I need is a powerful but unstable mage losing it while I stand at ground zero. Oh, and Street should be safe too.”

  “Hilarious,” I said. “If I need an assist, I’ll—”

  “Squeal like a little girl?” she asked. “I’m sorry…growl like a fearsome Night Warden?”

  “You should be gone.”

  “Already a memory, see you downtown.”

  “Good,” I said with a growl. “Wait for me at Haven. When you get there, have Roxanne see Street. Don’t let anyone else near him, he won’t react well. Call her when you’re close. I’ll get there as soon as I can, but it feels like it’s going to be a long night.”

  I heard the roar of the Shroud.

  The Shroud was a SuNaTran—Supernatural Transport—variant of the Ecosse superbike, outfitted with extras, like camouflage and biometric locks. I’d had Cecil reconfigure the security measures to accept Koda’s lack of a signature. He’d managed to have it read her absence of a signature as a signature. How he did it still mildly melted my brain. He’d somehow extrapolated Ziller’s theorem of negation, and applied runes to the bike that could pick up on Koda. He tried explaining it to me, but I had to stop him after a few sentences—and I’m a mage.
r />   “Don’t get dead,” Koda said. I heard her taking off into the night and removing Street from the madness that waited in the park.

  Even though I’d used Darkspirit to end the first rummer, I felt no rush of energy. As ineffective as the spell I cast was, it must have been working, or Izanami was filtering the energy on her own.

  “You can’t control them forever,” I said into the night.

  “I don’t need forever, Warden,” the voice answered. “I only need long enough to see you torn to shreds.”

  It knew I was a Night Warden, which was enough to get me thinking about what this entity was. I had an idea, but I’d need to go see Honor, the head of the Central Archive and proprietor of the Dragonflies on the Reeds, to get more information…if I survived tonight.

  “Oh, hey, welcome back,” I said, releasing energy into my duster and biting back the pain that rushed down my neck. “You never did tell me your name. I’ve never met a shy creature of evil. Or were you given a horrible name? Fluffy the Fear-Caster?”

  “You dare to mock me?” the voice answered. “I will make sure your death is agonizingly slow.”

  Magic-types, for all the power they wielded, had unnaturally delicate egos. A little button-pushing was usually enough to get them riled up. I liked to start with names, because names have power.

  “Ahh, Fluffy, did I hit a nerve?” I asked, feeling the magic course through my coat. “No need to be sensitive. I mean, my name is Grey Stryder. I sound like a horrible knock-off sneaker.”

  “Kill him.”

  I sensed the rummers suddenly kick into high gear. They weren’t waiting anymore.

  “Let the shredding begin.”

  FIVE

  My duster was no ordinary coat.

  Contrary to popular opinion, I didn’t get it for the ‘look.’ I do admit, it gave me a certain air of extraordinary badassery, which I normally didn’t possess. Like a certain notorious magic-user in the Midwest who runs around with fae these days, my coat was purely functional, not cosmetic.

  It served as my first, and usually last, line of defense. Even though it was slightly worn, it was a gift from Aria of the Wordweavers, one of the most powerful runecasters on the face of the Earth. It was the only one of its kind, and it had saved my ass more times than I could remember.

  It was like getting that favorite sweater from a distant aunt. If I didn’t wear it, she’d ask why and then proceed to make me a new one. There was no getting around it. I was wearing a duster whether I wanted to or not…all year round.

  Aria had imbued it with several runes of immense power, weaving in special properties for the dragonfly emblem. The pockets were dimensional locations, making time and relative distance in space a theoretical construct, allowing me to carry everything I needed and more. Basically, it was bigger on the inside than on the outside.

  I didn’t think it was possible, but in all my years as a mage, I had never seen anything like it. Aria had achieved runic overkill. I wondered what she thought I faced every night on the city streets. Even though it looked like worn leather, the runes made it stronger than Kevlar and Dragonscale combined.

  Considering I wasn’t bulletproof, magic-proof, or immune to large bursts of flame, using it as a shield had come in handy. Aria knew my limitations around casting, which meant the constant defensive spells the duster used were passive, not requiring active participation.

  I avoided most of the bells and whistles because they required high-powered spells to activate, which meant high-powered pain for me. Due to the attention of ogres, rummers, and other creatures of the night, it was starting to look a bit ragged around the edges. I preferred to think of it as not-so-gently broken in. I’d have Aria do some work on it when I saw her next…if I saw her again.

  As the rummers closed in, I spoke the words of power that activated the coat. The sensation of liquid lava burned through my chest as my muscles seized. The duster went from dark brown leather, to black with a metallic sheen. The dragonfly emblem on the rear glowed a deep violet, with black and red accents coruscating over its surface. I gritted my teeth against the pain, and enclosed myself in the coat.

 

  “Don’t see much of a choice…do you?”

 

  “The first lesson you learn as a Night Warden, always stack the odds in your favor.” I moved back. “Never fight fair, because fair doesn’t exist. Misdirect and attack from strength when you appear weak.”

 

  “Somehow, I doubt that,” I said, gesturing as the rummers came closer. “Fighting for your life doesn’t lend itself to pithy comments in the heat of battle.”

 

  “I’m not old…yet.”

  I gestured, and black tendrils shot out from Darkspirit, impaling several rummers and destroying them.

 

  “It’s called recycling,” I said, catching my breath. “Thank you, I think.”

  The smell of old coffee joined with a low-pitched rumble filled my senses.

  A scream cut through the park, as the rummers pounced. Behind the scream, I heard the low laughter of the creature controlling them.

  The first two came at once. I drew Fatebringer and fired, punching holes in one, and then thrust forward, burying Darkspirit in the other. Both burst into dust. Sometimes it didn’t pay to be first.

  I rotated around a slash, letting my duster take the impact. I introduced the rummer to Darkspirit, as I parried another lunge of claws. More dust.

  Another scream behind me. I stabbed to the rear and fired forward, ending two more.

  Screaming on a sneak attack? Not very sneaky.

  “You will die, Warden,” the voice said. “You will embrace me.”

  “I will die,” I said, cutting through two more rummers and ending them, “just not today.”

  The smell of burning wood filled the area, followed by the resonating foghorn of doom, as I called it. The taste of old, rancid lemon flooded my mouth, and I spat to one side. This was serious, dark, powerful magic.

  “What the hell?” I muttered, as I sensed the signature of something big and nasty. “Is that you, Fluffy?”

  More laughter. I was seriously beginning to question Fluffy’s sense of humor. I started backing out of the Terrace. Even the remaining rummers had run away from whatever was incoming. When rummers run, that was my cue to get gone.

  “I was saving this for later,” the voice said, “but it seems you are ready to die now.”

  “You know,” I said, absorbing Darkspirit and moving faster up the stairs, “I appreciate the sentiment, but you didn’t need to go through all that trouble…really.”

  Whatever it was read like an industrial-sized rummer. I wasn’t in a hurry for a meet-and-greet.

  A roar filled the Terrace as trees were uprooted and crushed. I looked in the direction of the destruction, and my brain momentarily seized. I was looking at a rummer but one that was the size of an ogre. One of the rummers apparently hadn’t gotten the ‘get scarce’ memo. The enormous rummogre reached out and snatched up the clueless rummer and bit off its head, casting the body aside. What was left burst to dust midair.

  “Fuck me,” I hissed, as the foghorn reached Inception-levels of volume. I stopped climbing the steps, realizing I was going to have to put this thing down. “What the fuck, Fluffy?”

  “You will die…tonight,” Fluffy answered, as more laughter filled the park. “Goodbye, Warden.”

  This was going to suck.

  SIX

  The park became still as the rummogre scanned the Terrace.

  It was a giant, man-shaped creature. Scars covered
its muscular body. Its disfigured and twisted face put the ‘horror’ in horrible. Ogres, on their own, were creatures to be avoided. They were dangerous, deadly, and stank like garbage covered in feces, then drenched in dog vomit…on a good day.

  This hybrid monstrosity shared an aroma of maximum stench, that wrapped itself around me, punched me mercilessly in the face a few times, stomped on my lungs, and brought tears to my eyes.

  “What the holy hell?” I asked, breathing shallowly to avoid suffocation. “The city’s going to need to nuke this area to get rid of that odor.”

  I let my senses expand, and I realized I was alone in the park, except for the gigantic rummogre looking for its next meal. Frankly, I was insulted. The least Fluffy could’ve done was stick around to see if this thing erased me.

  It was plain rude, but informative. Could Fluffy not hang about for long? Did he have a curfew? So many questions. I doubted the rummogre had answers for me.

  I focused on the creature and took a deep breath, against my better judgment, letting it out slowly. Fatebringer even with LITE rounds, would—at best—tickle this thing. There were a few spells I could cast. All of them would leave me catatonic for days, not to mention bring every magical governing body to my doorstep for a chat.

  Using Darkspirit openly in the city was enough to make some of them nervous. Casting dark spells of undoing would push them past nervous into angry elimination-mode. I wasn’t quite ready to take on the Council.

  We had an understanding. They left me alone, and I didn’t bring their world crashing down around them in an angry fit of cataclysmic, dark mageness. So far, it was working. We just traded dirty looks and insults whenever our paths crossed.

  Not surprisingly, not one member of the Dark Council happened to be roaming the rummer-infested park this evening. It was amazing how they always managed to be busy when these things occurred. I formed Darkspirit, and headed down the stairs towards the monster.

 

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