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Matabar. Chapter 63 - Beast and a Pawn
🕑 Added 2025-01-23 23:09:00 +0000 UTCArdan stepped over the makeshift threshold and found himself in a cramped, narrow, and rather short tunnel. Hewn skillfully through the foundation and hard ground, it ended in a spiral staircase that descended straight down to a makeshift hatch welded onto the pipe of an enormous storm drain.
During the rainy season, such drains would fill nearly to the brim, and in fairer weather, they’d end up being mostly dry.
Treading carefully on the corroded, sometimes cracked steps, Ardan closed his grimoire and returned it to its special clasp, shifting his grip on his staff. Then he reached for the old manhole cover.
“Let me help,” Din offered, trying to slip a hand past Ardi from the side.
Ardan only glanced at him in confusion, gave the cover a harder tug, and winced through clenched teeth as a sharp flash of pain flared in his chest. Because of the potion, he’d nearly forgotten that he was still nowhere near fully recovered, and such exertions certainly weren’t doing him any good. And yet, despite everything, the manhole cover gave way at last.
With a monstrous clang, he lifted it away, shaking off flakes of rust onto the steel pipe below. He also noticed signs that someone had come down here about half a year before, painstakingly sawing through the clinging rust that had fused the cover to the storm drain.
“Oh, right,” Din mumbled with a distracted smile. “You’re a Matabar. I forgot.”
Ardi took a moment to catch his breath. Something hot and wet began to spread across his chest.
“Everything all right down there?” Milar asked from above.
“Y-yeah,” Ardan answered, a slight stammer betraying how winded he was. He finally managed to breathe without sounding like a cornered hare and peered inside.
Metal rungs welded to the pipe served as a makeshift ladder, descending a couple of meters before ending in a runoff. The runoff branched into several stone channels that seemed to be old but still functioning piping. It wasn’t surprising, given the fact that Baliero had existed since the days of Gales.
Holding his staff in one hand and gripping the rungs with the other, Ardi climbed down onto a narrow ledge lining the shaft, with Din right behind him.
Soon, Alexander and the captain joined them. Thanks to the potions they’d taken, they also didn’t need any light to see in the gloom. Once at the bottom, the Cloaks took turns peering into the wide mouths of the drains — each nearly three meters in diameter — that vanished into the distance.
“Which way do we go?” Alexander asked with a grimace. “All of them reek equally to me.”
Ardi approached each of the channels in turn, trying to clear his mind of all the other smells and sensations as he sniffed the air. Alexander hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d mentioned the stench.
It stung his eyes with ammonia fumes from all manner of excrement. It twisted his stomach with the reek of stagnant water and decay. It even throbbed in his skull as the thick, stifling air seemed to squeeze it hard.
And yet, near the eastern pathway, Ardan caught a scent that overshadowed all the rest. Those others — disgusting though they were — belonged here. They had long ago soaked into the stone and merged with the wet, sloping arches, now living undisturbed in their wretched, lonely domain. They paid no heed to their uninvited visitors, only disliking the fact that their filthy solitude had been disturbed.
But what Ardan had just smelled did not belong in the sewers.
“And why is it,” Din grumbled, “that whenever some kind of damned necromancer is performing a ritual or a demonologist is preparing a rite, it always has to be in the sewer? I’ll be reeking for days… Plamena will make me sleep with the dog in the yard.”
“Normally, the influence of Ley Lines is stronger down here, and it’s easier to draw in energy,” Ardan reminded him, not immediately realizing that the question had been rhetorical. “This way.”
He reopened his grimoire to the familiar page that held the classic Ice Wave spell and took the lead.
One by one, the Cloaks followed along the stone parapet that skirted a sort of canal. It was filled with sloshing, gray, foul-smelling water, within which murky shards of ice drifted like broken glass.
“By the Face of Light, that reeks,” Alexander rasped.
The Cloaks hunched their shoulders, occasionally sneezing. Their dark coats, with their bright silver buttons, were reflected in the icy sheen on the walls.
Ardan, for his part, was barely suffering from the cold, which was interesting, especially when you considered the fact that, while the weather was as bad as it currently was, he would normally be forced to wear several layers of warm clothing.
If he had to guess, he would presume that it was all because of the winter solstice and the intense Ley Line radiation. His Matabar blood seemed to be drawing strength from it.
Turning that notion over in his mind, Ardan walked gingerly ahead, peering into all the particularly dark corners cautiously. Hidden in the shadows, the concealed passages seemed to harbor ever more monsters than the house they’d left behind. Sometimes, he would jolt at a splash in the canal, only to see another chunk of ice bobbing to the surface.
Everywhere he looked, he was halfway convinced that demons, chimeras, or other beasts plucked straight from his grandfather’s stories lurked there. But aside from that same decaying odor, which steadily grew stronger the closer they came to their target, Ardi noticed nothing else.
The Cloaks behind him were reacting in much the same way — tensing for a moment and pointing their revolvers, sabers, or, in Din’s case, knives, at every faint sound or whisper.
Despite their wariness, the sewers remained stoically silent, enveloped in a hush that was almost hypnotic. The water and its icy edges swallowed every echo of their uninvited footsteps, while their shaky breaths simply blended into the local gloom.
Sometimes, they would need to descend a sloping trough and then, after moving to the side, climb back up against the flow. Step after step, breath after breath, for the better part of fifteen minutes, they approached their destination — Ardan could tell by the gradually intensifying stench.
“Strange…” Alexander muttered. “That house was crawling with demons, but down here, there’s not a soul in sight.”
“It’s the running water,” Ardan pointed at the channel, where a filthy trickle gurgled along. “Water accumulates a Ley charge too, and though it’s slight, it has special properties. In fact, rivers were the first sources of a stable Ley current for research experiments and-”
Even with his back to them, Ardan could feel the skeptical looks burning holes into the back of his head.
“Demons and the undead can’t endure being near running water,” Ardi cut his explanation short. “That’s also why they avoid Ley cables. That’s why-”
“We got it,” Milar interrupted him. “And since the city’s having rolling blackouts, the cables-”
At that moment, the captain and Ardan froze in unison, then glanced at each other. Alexander and Din pressed themselves to the wall, exchanging confused looks.
“If the city’s Ley cables aren’t working…” Ardan began.
“Then the demons can travel wherever they want down here,” Milar finished.
“But what about the Niewa?”
“The underground tram lines,” the captain snapped his fingers. “They run beneath the river in the deepest parts. The demons could use them.”
“But that doesn’t match with all the evidence that suggested that the demonologist is planning to transform herself into a demon to gain more power.”
“Which means…” Milar exhaled, staggering slightly and catching Alexander’s arm for support. “That someone put her up to it. But they didn’t tell her everything. By the Eternal Angels… We’re just chasing a pawn.”
“Gentlemen investigators,” Alexander cleared his throat, his tone as irritated as ever. “Would you mind sharing your thoughts with us?”
“Someone’s trying to turn the capital into a Dead Land,” Ardan said softly, scarcely believing his own words.
That, apparently, was set to take place at midnight. And that was the real aim of whoever was manipulating the demonologist. When the clock struck twelve, the phenomenon of the winter solstice would enter its most powerful phase.
The Ley Lines’ radiation would grow so strong that not only would Ley cables and transformers fail, but even accumulators would go dark. Star Mages would be left relying solely on the personal rays of their Stars.
That would be the perfect time to strike. If the demonologist succeeded, the city would be overrun by hundreds of demons that would not face much significant resistance. And then…
By the Sleeping Spirits… The Metropolis was home to nearly twenty million people!
Suddenly, Ardan found it hard to breathe.
All those lives were now depending on two operatives and a detective from the Second Chancery who were being accompanied by a barely-trained mage.
“But how would she even manage the ritual?” Ardan asked, baffled. “Whatever else it is, the high Ley radiation is impossible to calculate. Stabilizing a seal that opens the city up to hordes of demons just can’t be done. It makes no sense…”
“I think I know where we’re headed, Ard,” Milar said, spitting onto the damp stone. He glanced down the next branching pathway, where a steel ladder led upwards along one wall. “One of the future subway junctions is up ahead.”
“And it’s shielded from the Ley radiation,” Ardan added, his breath catching, “which means that, on this special night, conducting a ritual there would be no trouble at all.”
“And the demons would immediately flood out into the city through the subway lines,” the captain nodded.
With that grim realization, the four of them instantly broke into a run. Within minutes, they reached the junction and stood at the foot of the ladder. There, as if proving them right, bright, warm rays of light could be seen spilling out through the gaps around a slightly ajar service door.
“Alexander, you go first,” Milar ordered. “Shoot anyone on sight.”
“What if there are hostages?”
Milar’s brow just furrowed. Alexander swore under his breath, but gave a curt nod. No one argued. If there were indeed hostages up there, it meant they were components in this ritual. And when the fate of twenty million other “hostages” was at stake, you simply had to do the grim math.
Ardan didn’t condone it, but he understood.
If these had been hunting trails, any pack leader would’ve made the same choice.
“Din, you’re second. Cover his back.”
“Got it, Cat.”
“Ard.” The captain turned to the young man. “You’re right behind me. Use whatever you can throw at her. We have to kill the demonologist.”
Ardi nodded, seized by a sudden awareness of just how heavily this burden was weighing on him.
“So, is this still considered a Level Two priority?” Ardan asked, unable to help himself.
“It’s the kind of priority,” Milar muttered through gritted teeth, holstering his saber and cocking his gun, “that’ll have us filling out reams of top-secret paperwork if we survive.”
The Cloaks gave each other a measured nod. Then, carrying one revolver in his teeth, Alexander began to climb the ladder.
Ardi, while waiting for his turn, glanced once more at his watch.
Time until midnight: 1 hour, 26 minutes.
Icy dread trickled down his spine. Now that he knew what awaited the city at the stroke of midnight, each tick of the watch’s second hand sounded not like a discreet whisper, but rather, it seemed like a hammer playing a funeral march.
One by one, the Cloaks vanished through the opening. Ardan pressed himself to the stone walls of the old sewer, trying to be as still as possible. He strained to catch any sounds or sights from the far side of the hatch, but the difference in lighting rendered him practically blind, and all he saw was the glare of the light.
At last, after Milar climbed up, Ardan followed him. Balancing his staff in one hand and gripping the wet, rough rungs with the other, he began his ascent. With each rung, with every step left behind, his heart hammered faster, and insidious doubts began to gnaw at his conviction.
Skusty would probably have reminded him that if he truly wished to escape, he could open a path through the Fae Lands and flee far from the Metropolis. Of course, he would then have to deal with a lot of furious Sidhe, which was in no way more pleasant than fighting demonologists, but at least there was a chance he could negotiate with them.
Ergar, though… Ergar would never run. Even if, as Ardan now understood, these were not his own hunting trails. Even if this conflict involved monsters not found in the Alcade. Ergar would still aid them, would still save them, would still watch over them, because that was his way among the snowy peaks bathed in the cold moonlight of endless nights.
And the moment Ardan pictured his native mountains, his breathing steadied, and his heart calmed a little. He was, after all, the apprentice of a snow leopard before anything else. It would not do for him-
“Shhh,” someone hissed in his ear.
Four hands yanked him clear of the hatch, hauling him down to crouch behind a stack of wooden crates. Blinking in the harsh brightness, it took Ardan a moment for his eyes to adjust and see anything.
When his sight finally returned, he realized that he and the Cloaks were huddled behind these crates, which served as their cover.
They were crouching together in a broad, oval corridor. Thick cables snaked along the walls, connecting to humming transformers, or sometimes vanishing through pipework that led into walls partially plated with steel. The corridor itself was closed off on one side by a wall, but on the other side, through wide arches, they could see a round platform about ten meters in diameter.
There, four tall devices resembling steel balloons crackled with sparks. Each had a narrow base and a huge, orb-like top. Thick cables stretched out from them, and these cables, under normal circumstances, should have reached the transformers in four branching lines, routing the current farther along. At least that was how Anna’s brother had once explained it to him.
But now those thick cables had been severed. Instead of going into the transformers, each of them had been clamped with copper connectors to the screws on the lids of crystal boxes. Crystal was one of the best conductors of the Ley current — which was why it was used in lanterns among other things.
Those containers lay on the stone floor inside four blood-inscribed sections of perhaps the largest, most convoluted seal Ardan had ever seen. In truth, it hardly resembled a single seal at all, and was more like five distinct constructs fused into one monstrous pattern.
And if Ardan hadn’t already seen the design of a certain strategic spell, he would’ve thought that all of this was merely the deranged scribbling of a madman.
At the center, within the intricate lines of the seal, sat a motionless figure covered by a black cowl.
Even though Ardan could only see the figure’s back, he instantly recognized them. This was the same person who’d shot him last night.
“Don’t move,” Alexander hissed. “Look.”
At first, Ardan didn’t know where he was supposed to look, so he focused on the crystal boxes. In one of them, he spotted a strangely-shaped shard of bone, bent at multiple angles and dotted with bulbous growths. In the second was something like a parchment covered in fine writing that was too tiny to read at this distance, even for a Matabar half-blood. The third held a small, nondescript stone, the sort you might find by the thousands in the forest or along a riverbank. But in the last box, Ardan saw a familiar statuette.
The very same one that had caused so many deaths on Fifth Street…
“There,” Alexander said, nodding slightly to the side of the middle of the hall.
Ardan turned his head to the left and could barely keep himself from cursing. Lurching along the walkway above them and bumping its hideous head against the steel beams near the five-meter-high ceiling was a hulking monstrosity.
Every so often, it scraped the glass windows leading into empty control rooms, or whatever these compartments that oversaw the station’s operations were.
The creature stood on four long, spindly legs with thick, rounded joints protruding from each of them. It had neither fur nor flesh, just the creaking plates of a chitinous shell overlapping each other.
Its front limbs, vaguely reminiscent of arms, were thicker than its hind ones, which lacked anything resembling hips. Instead, each rear limb had a rod-like protrusion covered in cone-shaped nodules. The beast balanced itself on something that looked like huge, multi-toed hands armed with claws. And the arrangement of these was asymmetrical: on its left forelimb, there were four digits, and on its right, six. Its hind limbs were similarly mismatched: it only had two on one side, but a ghastly eight could be seen on the foot-like structure of the other.
Its long legs — each was at least four meters long — were anchored to an exposed skeleton encased in that same chitinous carapace. Its torso was eerily shaped, almost humanoid, with sets of additional shoulder joints near the spots where its limbs attached to its body, each of them sprouting twitching filaments that appeared to be smaller additional arms or legs.
As for its head, it was impossible to tell where the thing’s torso ended and its mouth began. Its lower jaw seemed to grow out of its chest, while its upper jaw melded seamlessly into its sloping back, which was as smooth as a dolphin’s — Ardan remembered pictures of them from his schoolbooks.
The monster moved slowly, carefully placing each elongated limb as it prowled the outer walkway.
And, hideous though it was, the creature exuded no scent whatsoever. Had it not been so colossal, and had it not moved with such uncanny silence on its many clawed toes — a silence that had alerted his instincts — Ardan might never have noticed it.
But if he couldn’t smell it, that meant…
“It’s a Tazidahian military chimera,” Alexander spat under his breath. “By all the Angels, Captain, how is one of the Brotherhood’s war beasts prowling the sewers in our own capital?”
“For once, Alexander, I don’t much care,” Milar muttered.
Ardan, who’d been shifting his position, tried to slide a bit farther away, but Alexander grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it painfully.
“Don’t move,” he repeated. “That’s a Sprinter-class chimera. It doesn’t have a sense of smell, sight, or hearing, but it navigates perfectly through vibrations. And it can sprint at almost ninety kilometers an hour while maintaining that speed for hours on end. The Tazidahians used them to hunt cavalry regiments once. And now they’re trying to update them for use against armored vehicles. Really, the Witch’s Gaze? Now of all times…”
Alexander shot Ardan a sharp look. Ardan merely raised his hands in mute apology. After hearing that description, he found himself far less eager to move.
“It’s a wonder the thing didn’t sense us climbing up,” Milar said in a hushed tone.
Din hadn’t spoken or moved all this time, standing poised, like a lynx about to leap.
“It’s the Ley radiation,” Ardan said quietly, using measured, careful motions as he pointed at the sparking machines. “They’ve got high-grade accumulators inside them that create an enclosed, insulated field. Each one could-”
“Don’t care,” the captain cut him off.
“What’s the plan, Cat?” Din finally asked. “That beast won’t go down easy.”
“Alexander,” Milar said after a quick pause. “You’ve never faced anything like this on the Armondo border?”
Ardan flicked his gaze over Alexander’s tribal tattoos.
“Me? No,” came Alexander’s cool reply. “But some of the others did.”
“And…”
“They’re all dead. You can’t outrun this bastard, and if it locks onto your vibrations, you can’t hide, either.”
“And how do you kill it?”
“The only unarmored part is the inside of its maw. Nothing short of a 65-caliber artillery shell will pierce that plating otherwise.”
“Shit,” Milar muttered, glaring at his revolver. “Too bad I couldn’t fit a cannon in my pocket.”
The creature continued its slow patrol, shuffling back and forth and never straying far from the figure at the center of the seal. Clearly, the Tazidahian chimera was on guard duty.
A Tazidahian chimera. Castilian and Selkado saboteurs on the train…
Ardan cast another glance at the demonologist. Even if — no, when — they stopped her, that wouldn’t end the investigation. Quite the opposite, in fact. Too many clues suggested that Ardan hadn’t even come close to unraveling the puzzle. He’d merely found its first thread, one of many being pulled by the unseen puppeteers orchestrating this ghastly show.
“Trainee.”
“Yes?”
“We’ll distract that monster,” Milar said through clenched teeth. “You deal with the demonologist.”
At that, Ardan almost fell on his ass — which would have been disastrous indeed.
“But-”
“No buts, Mister Mage,” the captain said, unsheathing his saber with excruciating care. “You’re the only spellcaster among us. So, it falls to you to handle our esteemed lady. Just be quick about it, because we can’t dance with this thing for long.”
Ardan gulped and nodded, feeling another invisible weight settle on his shoulders like a millstone.
“Don’t fail us, Ard,” Alexander murmured as he turned toward the chimera. “Because… well, you know exactly what’s at stake if we lose here.”
“Alright, boys,” Milar smiled grimly, lifting his revolver and squinting down its sight. “Whoever dies first…”
“Is a Fatian!” The operatives roared in unison, their voices echoing like thunder. Then, under the cover of Milar’s fire, they vaulted over the crates and charged the monster.
Alexander’s first shot found its mark inside the chimera’s maw. Tearing through the pinkish flesh, the bullet lodged itself somewhere in its upper palate. The monster let out a cry that made it sound like an enraged mosquito — only louder and nastier — its green blood and sticky saliva spraying across the floor. The next few shots ricocheted off the beast’s tightly-clamped fangs.
The creature lashed out with its left forelimb, and its long claws — each was as long as one of Din’s own blades — slashed through the air mere centimeters above the ranger’s head. He dropped to his knees mid-stride, sliding underneath the limb that tore at the brickwork and crushed the steel plating behind him. Springing back to his feet, Din leaped, braced himself — just as he’d done on that fence earlier — against the creature’s hind leg, then flipped backwards through the air. Spreading his arms wide like wings, he drove his knives into the joint of its right forelimb.
The chimera howled again. Jerking sideways, it rammed its shoulder into a control room window, shattering the glass and turning it into a gleaming rain that showered Alexander as he charged in. Alexander holstered his revolvers as he ran and slipped on a pair of brass knuckles. Each thick metal plate bore the sacred symbol of the Face of Light. With a roar every bit as fierce as Guta’s, he smashed them straight into the claws of the limb Din had wounded. Even from several paces away, Ardan felt the ground tremble beneath him. The impact cracked the creature’s chitinous shell.
Meanwhile, Milar never stopped firing into the chimera’s maw, not allowing it to unclench its jaws. He also darted between its legs, circling and slashing with his saber at anything he could reach, though it hardly left a mark. Still, the Cloaks buzzed around the chimera like a swarm of gnats, keeping it busy enough that it got tangled up in its own limbs, unable to reach them with its fangs.
“Ard!” Milar roared, flipping open his revolver’s cylinder, dumping the spent shells, and hastily reloading with a “moon.” “Now!”
As Ardan’s name was shouted, the demonologist, who had paid no heed to the fight so far, gave a sudden twitch.
Opening his grimoire, Ardan vaulted over the crates, ignoring the Cloaks’ vicious struggle against the chimera. He raced toward the ritual seal. If he’d interpreted it all correctly, he only needed to do one thing to thwart the ceremony — destroy at least one of the devices feeding a constant stream of Ley energy into the design. Such a sprawling spell construct demanded a monstrous amount of power...
Ardi obeyed his instincts in that moment, skidding to a halt mid-stride and flinging himself to the side. He crashed shoulder-first into the ground and tumbled. When he stopped rolling, he leaped away yet again, trying to get as far from his original spot as possible.
But it was not quite far enough. A few droplets of acid spattered the edge of his coat, burning through the fabric. The floor sizzled and blackened in several places, marking where the demonologist’s spell had struck.
She rose to her feet and threw back her hood.
Ardan drew a pained breath. He’d desperately hoped that he was mistaken.
“You, young lady,” the professor aimed his pointer at someone. “Second row, fourth bench.”
A girl with shiny earrings and a low forehead (which, oddly enough, suited her) stood up.
“That was a two-contour general-type seal,” she replied. “If I’m not mistaken, two rays of the Red and one ray of the Green Star were used.”
“Close, but incorrect,” Convel replied without a hint of displeasure. In fact, he seemed energized by the response. “Next.”
He remembered her all too well. She was the modest girl with the bright laugh who was oddly determined when it came to her studies. She always tried to compete with anyone who even slightly outdid her in terms of grades. There weren’t many who could do so, considering the fact that Selena Lorlov had been among the best in their first-year class.
She was of average height, with an average build, her cheeks were a bit hollow, and she was always wearing garishly colorful earrings — not ones with gems, but cheap costume trinkets — and forever tying her hair up into a tight bun that made her look several years older.
She was a crown scholarship recipient. An orphan. Parents and family went missing in the Swallow Ocean.
She’d juggled her studies with her job as a governess. The household that had hired the fledgling mage were no kin of hers, and had presumably wanted their child raised under the supervision of a magic user.
“Yoouuu!” She growled like a wounded wolf.
Her hair was no longer bound in a bun. Damp with sweat and blood, it hung in bedraggled locks about her shoulders.
“Selena, you-” Ardan began.
“Don’t you dare!” She screeched.
She struck the floor with her staff and a dark, nearly black seal flared to life beneath her feet, appearing far faster than anything she’d ever shown she was capable of during their military training. Ardan recognized certain details thanks to studying those copied runes he’d taken from the train.
It was a demonic seal from the School of Chaos — Lady Talia’s creation.
A swirling spike of black and scarlet erupted from the tip of Selena’s staff, its smoky lights curling into each other in a terrifying swirl. Ardan used two rays of energy, forming a classic Shield around himself.
“You’re pathetic,” Selena sneered as her spike tore through Ardan’s barrier, nudged aside only slightly before cutting his left thigh.
Ardi let out a roar at the pain — sharp and searing, even with the potion’s effects — and instinctively hobbled away.
“Fucking half-breed!” Selena shrieked, no trace left of that bright, cheerful honor student she’d been before. “You think you’re so clever?!”
Another spike of chaos energy wreathed in a black seal shot out from her staff. Knowing that his injured leg would make it impossible for him to dodge, and that his Shield likely wouldn’t hold, Ardan slammed his staff against the ground. Four icicles materialized around him, draining six more rays from his Star and the accumulator on his ring.
The first icicle of his Ice Barrage met the black-and-red chaos spell midair; both fizzled out in a burst of frost and something vile and deeply unsettling. The next two vanished into the veil of crimson fog that whirled around Selena like a tornado. Ardan had no idea what sort of magic she was using, but it was clearly more than her Star alone should’ve managed.
“You’ve finally noticed?” She gave a laugh, tossing back her sweat-soaked hair. “So much for one of the Grand’s best engineers! Convel never shuts up about you! He’s always praising you more than all his other students combined. You foul creature! You pitiful imitation of an actual human!”
Gripping her staff in both hands, she slammed it against the floor again. A new seal, this one about a meter wide, flared to life, burning with darkness and blood. It spawned fanged skulls that rained down on Ardan from all sides like cannon shots.
Ardan knew another simple Shield would be worthless here. Ignoring the mounting pain in his chest and leg, which was thankfully still being dulled by the potion, he sprinted around the edge of the platform. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed one of the chimera’s forelimbs smashing into Alexander’s gut and flinging him against a wall. Din, bloodied and tattered, was barely standing upright, and Milar was clinging to the chimera’s torso, grimly holding on to the hilt of his bent saber wedged between the plates.
“You think you’re better than me?!” Selena kept screaming, flinging skull after skull at him. They slammed into the floor, shattering the stone and leaving behind small craters filled with roiling lava. “Just because you can answer some idiotic questions?! Because a bunch of fools who can’t tell a contour from an array run to you for help?! You’re no one! Nothing but a beast! No, you’re worse, because even a beast can be trained to do tricks!”
Ardan stumbled over a crack in the brick flooring, tumbling forward. He twisted in midair and landed on his back, gasping as the impact drove every bit of air from his lungs.
“You’ll die here, half-breed!” Selena shrieked. “Then they’ll all realize you’re just a worthless upstart! A talentless animal!”
She raised her staff and slammed it down with finality. This time, the swarm of skulls soared at him unerringly. Ardan, wheezing and croaking, just barely managed to tap his staff against the floor. And from its tip, a stream of cold, impenetrable gloom surged out.
He rolled aside, narrowly evading the incoming barrage of skulls that shook the floor.
“You think you can hide from me, you pathetic excuse for a mage?!” Selena shouted, scowling wildly, blinded by the haze of darkness around her. “Is that worthless trick all the teacher’s pet can manage?! You’re not worth the air you breathe! None of you are! Filthy sub-humans — I hate you all! I’ll destroy you!”
Ardan recalled a detail from her file that he’d read only a few hours before. Selena had been born in the north. Together with her family and other settlers, she’d traveled around the mountains by rail, along the river routes to the Swallow Ocean, where the ship was wrecked.
“You won’t just kill the Firstborn, Selena,” Ardan said through labored breaths.
She twisted toward Ardan’s voice. With a harsh cackle, she launched another wave of blood-red skulls. Ardan — who’d discarded his boots so he could remain silent — hurriedly darted aside.
“They’re using you, Selena!”
“Shut up, mongrel!” The young woman shrieked, slamming her staff down again. She flung out yet another swarm of skulls, acting as if there was no limit to her rays. “I don’t believe a single word from your filthy mouth!”
“Think, Selena! You have to see that your actions will devastate the entire Metropolis!” Ardan found it harder and harder to dodge her attacks, but he needed time, and so he stalled.
“I’ll only annihilate the half-breed district! And every other beastly creature that’s slunk into our city!” she screeched in outrage. “They promised me power, promised to make me better! And I am better! Stronger than all our professors! Stronger than all the students! And I’ll use that strength to-”
“What about the family you lived with? They were ordinary humans!” Ardan cut in, limping aside and struggling against the pain that was breaking through his potion-induced numbness.
“They were filthy beast lovers!” Selena snarled. “They signed their own death warrant the day they started dealing with non-humans!”
“And their child? Was he also to blame for something?”
“He’s guilty of inevitably becoming just like his foul parents,” she sneered. “Enough talk, beast. Time to finish this. After you, I’ll gut those mangy Cloaks. And if Boris and Elena survive the night, I’ll see to them as well.”
Her staff struck the ground once more. This time, the seal took a moment longer to appear beneath her feet, but even so, a phantom maw gaped wide at her staff’s tip, instantly swallowing the frigid darkness Ardan had summoned. And then...
Nothing happened.
Selena stared in shock at the broken, bloodstained floor. She gawked at the shattered bricks that had once borne an elegant, intricate seal and were now little more than the remnants of a disjointed mosaic. The four boxes had been ruined, their metal frames twisted and their crystal walls now reduced to sparkling dust. Though the severed cables still sparked, they could no longer form any kind of sigil.
“You broke it!” She screeched, voice shrill and furious. “You ruined everything, you damned beast!”
Breathing raggedly, Ardan gave her a brazen smile. “Actually, you did that to yourself.”
“Monster!” She howled, slamming her staff down again.
A complex seal flared with crimson fire beneath her, and a howling, flaming specter burst forth from her staff’s tip. And yet, its flame burned an eerie green rather than the usual orange. Emitting silent, haunting shrieks, it bared its fangs and claws.
It streaked like a bullet toward Ardan, who refused to budge, and... then dissolved into the rippling Water Shroud that now surrounded him. The Shroud, after devouring the energy of that hostile spell, surged out as a blazing ribbon that lashed out at the chimera. The beast, which had pinned Din to the floor and thrown Milar aside, was cleaved in half by the shimmering torrent.
“You saved your precious Cloaks, did you?” Selena rasped, her voice hollow and deranged, her glare full of madness. “Now you’ll die for it.”
Ardan had only a single ray left in his Star and could feel the weakness gnawing at his battered body. Still, he tried to reach out toward the chill swirling through the darkness enveloping the city. Maybe he could call upon it, summon it somehow, and-
Bang! Bang! Two shots rang out.
Sitting on the floor, his back propped up against the wall, Alexander held his smoking revolvers in his outstretched hands.
“Aaaargh!” A wild, horrified scream echoed through the air.
Selena flailed, blood spurting from her shattered wrists. Her hands dangled from the torn flesh by just a few strips of sinew. Her staff clattered across the floor.
“Noooooooo!” She wailed.
With hideous, frantic motions, she pawed at her own belly, smearing blood across her gray dress.
Ardan knew exactly what she was about to do. He tossed aside his staff, yanked out a dagger, and leaped forward, roaring through the pain. He tackled Selena onto her back and, with one slash, carved away a patch of skin that was already glowing with the same seal that had sent the Homeless Fae to the Sleeping Spirits.
“Aaaargh!” Selena screamed, convulsing violently. Ardan slid back, collapsing onto the floor.
He gasped for breath, drenched in blood — his own and others’ both — and just stared blindly at nothing.
Milar, who was in far better shape than the rest, helped Din up and set him down beside Alexander. Then he limped toward Ardan, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Well done, trainee,” the captain rasped. “Our backup’s almost here,” he added, shaking a bunch of medallions in his hand.
“That’s... good...” Ardan exhaled.
“I... I just wanted to be stronger...” Selena, sprawled out on her back, spasmed as she wept. “I only wanted to be stronger... Stronger than the half-breeds... Stronger than the humans... And they told me how... Showed me...”
Ardan blinked and looked toward the crates behind which he and the Cloaks had been hiding recently. Through the cold haze still swirling within his mind — it felt like a wind howling overhead — he heard voices.
Dozens of voices. The voices of children. At first, they laughed, calling for their mothers to wrap them up in a warm hug. Those same mothers promised them anything and everything, even their own lives and hearts. Then those voices changed, still pleading for their mothers — but instead of warmth and gentle arms, they found only agony. And in their final moments, the children understood that their mothers weren’t coming. No one was. Only more darkness and torment.
Ardan felt as though he couldn’t breathe, as though the very world was choking him in a swirl of terror and despair.
“Trainee!” Milar’s alarmed shout sounded very far away. “Trainee, what’s wrong?!”
A huge piece of the wall peeled away from the broken steel plating and tumbled down, crushing what remained of the crates. Bodies rolled out — mutilated, naked and butchered bodies, their faces forever contorted in horror. Their eyes had been gouged out, their legs broken, and strange symbols had been carved into their small skulls.
“They taught me how to hear the words... Told me I had to hear the children’s pain... so I could grow stronger... I listened to their agony... and I became stronger...” Selena’s voice wavered.
Ardan felt like he was suffocating. As though the world had him by the throat, twisting and crushing him beneath that ocean of horror and agony.
“Dammit, boy!” Milar’s voice receded even further.
“But you, you damned half-breed, will learn nothing from me,” Selena hissed, her voice unbearably close. “I’ll never tell you anything.”
Ardan turned. He no longer saw her as something human, but a monstrous horror devoid of all humanity. She opened her maw wide, moaning and bawling as she bit off her own tongue.
“Fuck!” Milar swore.
Through the haze, Ardan watched Milar rush over, trying to stanch the bleeding with his hand. But Selena thrashed wildly, resisting any efforts to save her. Not because she wanted to live, but because they needed her alive, to get answers out of her.
Ardan, panting, struggled to his feet. He walked over to them and, marveling at how light Milar suddenly felt, pushed him aside. Then he seized the monster by the throat and lifted her off the ground. She trembled in his grip, a pitiful wretch, so insignificant…
She flailed her ruined limbs against his arms, and her yellow eyes glowed with greed and rot.
She wasn’t calling forth a demon.
She had become one.
And any hunter who was the alpha of his pack was duty-bound to exterminate such things. That was his vow. No demon or Homeless Fae would cross the borders of his land.
“You wanted power?” The hunter growled in the Fae tongue. “Then take it!”
Allowing all the children’s agony to flow through him, he became a bridge for their tormented souls. Their fury poured back into this world, unleashed upon the one who had tormented them.
The demon squealed and shrieked, trying to free herself, but how could such a wretched thing hope to rival the hunter’s strength?
***
Milar was hurled back a good ten paces. He hit the ground hard, scrambling for his revolver and training it on the young man.
Damn it all. He liked this trainee, too. He was bright, if naive, and had a big, kind heart.
“Kid!” The captain shouted. “I’ll shoot! Let her go! We need to find out what she knows!”
But Ardan most likely couldn’t hear him right now. Maybe he couldn’t hear anyone. Where he’d once stood, a towering figure cloaked in a blue haze that was in the shape of a shimmering, colossal snow leopard was holding the gasping, groaning girl by the throat.
The trainee opened his mouth. His canines, which had already been prominent, appeared to be even longer through that bestial haze.
“E lirak an’dir?” Roared the creature that was more beast than man. “Lir!”
In response, shadows reached out from the mound of butchered corpses. Shadows shaped like small children. They crawled across the floor while letting out silent screams, clawing at broken stones and climbing atop one another. Then, swarming up Ardan’s body, they began pouring into the demonologist’s mouth.
“Nooooooooooooo!” She screamed, fighting to get free. “I’ll tell you everything! Stop! Please! I can’t bear it!”
“Ihna!” The giant bellowed.
“The house next door!” She gasped. “That’s where the ones who taught me lived! They called themselves the Order of the Spider! That’s all I know! I swear on my family’s grave, that’s everything! Stop the shadows! I beg you!”
Milar flinched as Ardan pulled the girl closer to him, letting the silent shadows of the dead children crawl inside her, inflicting unbearable torment upon her. Then, with a curt nod, the giant repositioned his grip. He pressed his hands around her head and, as though twisting a chicken’s neck, he snapped hers effortlessly. Her lifeless body hit the floor with a thud.
“Face of Light’s shit,” Milar hissed, spitting.
***
With monumental effort, Ardi erected mental barriers around his mind, cutting himself off from the darkness permeating the air and filling every pore of existence.
Breathing hard, he sank to the floor and hugged his knees, trying to calm his pounding heart.
“Damn it, kid!” Milar ran up to him and delivered a sharp slap to the back of his head. “Yonatan warned us in his report that you could lose it like this, but you went too far!”
“This is only the second time,” Ardan wheezed.
“What?”
“It’s only happened once before... with the Shanti’Ra,” he murmured, forcing down the last few dregs of the feral fury that had seized him moments ago. “And now.”
He remembered everything that had happened, but he’d experienced it from an outsider’s perspective, like a spectator within his own body. And yet, at the same time, he’d been fully aware and had truly wanted to do all of it.
He’d wanted to punish the one who had chosen to become a demon and had taken so many innocent lives. It had felt like getting caught between two ropes being pulled in opposite directions.
Milar shook his head and sat down beside him.
“Was she telling the truth?”
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
“She had no other choice,” Ardan said, wincing in pain as he nodded toward the ruined crates and their contents. “They forced the words right out of her.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off Selena’s corpse. Her chin lay against her spine, her glassy gaze reflecting pain and horror. The same kind of pain and horror that she’d inflicted upon those murdered children.
Ergar would have called this justice.
But Skusty... The squirrel would have said that Ardan had been too kind and that her punishment was far from enough.
“All right,” Milar sighed, lying back on the cold stones. “Whoever was in that ‘house next door’ is probably long gone by now, so we’ll wait for our people. In the official report, we’ll write that the demonologist — after revealing her foul plans to us — was unfortunate enough to slip, twist her ankle, and land very poorly.”
Ardan’s eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline. He’d been fully prepared for another stint in the Cloaks’ dungeon.
“You...”
“We’re partners, Magister,” Milar said with a half-smirk. “Our top priority, if we want to stay alive in this shitty city, is to watch each other’s backs.”
***
Around six in the morning, an unremarkable car pulled up to Markov Avenue. From the passenger side, a tall yet lanky young man climbed out.
“Stay safe, trainee,” rasped the weary driver, then the door slammed shut and the car drove off quietly down the street.
A street where the Ley-lamps were gradually coming back to life. A street that knew nothing about what had transpired that night — and perhaps that ignorance was for the best.
All the same...
Ardan looked at his hands.
When the Cloaks had arrived, they’d brought Edward Aversky, several more mages, forensic experts, and a few healers with them. They’d patched up Ardan’s wounds, given him more painkillers, and within a few hours, had restored the half-ruined power station to a pristine condition. That way, when the workers showed up tomorrow, they wouldn’t find a single trace of what had happened.
The Cloaks had taken whatever artifacts had survived, along with the demonologist’s staff, her grimoire, and Selena’s body, of course.
Milar, Alexander and Din had said nothing about Ardan losing control... If he’d ever had any control to begin with.
Ardi pressed a hand to his chest. Back on the steppe, was it he who’d summoned Ergar’s power, or had Ergar himself channeled his will through his student?
Another question.
Another missing answer.
Leaning on his staff, Ardan hobbled up to the entrance and slumped down onto the steps of the bar. Overhead, the flickering sign sputtered in the wind. He sat there for a long time, gazing blankly off into space.
If he’d had the chance, would he have dealt with Selena — after all her murders and cruelty — any differently?
The door covered in ice creaked open and Tess emerged in her fur coat. She had dark bags under her eyes, likely from a sleepless night.
She’d probably been unable to sleep while the power had been out. Or she’d simply been too worried about something else. Who knew all the things that might have kept her awake?
Without a word, she sat down beside Ardan and draped a warm blanket over him. She hugged him gently, not speaking so much as a syllable.
Would he have treated Selena any differently?
No.
And that knowledge — the awareness that, deep within him, a truly fierce beast of the mountain lurked — was what frightened him the most.
Comments
TeDureShi
No
LiteWvr
I don't think there are such a thing as healing potions from what we've seen so far. Healers are described as being near pinnacle in the difficulty of their magic, seems to me like you can't just bottle that up.
good guy
Yeah, I don't get why the cloaks didn't heal him
Nùmenor
Amazing chapter! Just wondering, was Ardi using a dark name when he channeled the wrath of the children into Selena?
SAB
"Because of the potion, he’d nearly forgotten that he was still nowhere near fully recovered, and such exertions certainly weren’t doing him any good." Why hasn't Arden asked for one of their healing potions?
SirWinsALot
RIghtfully so. The world he lives in is not a fun place. You just got to deal with it. This fierce beast inside is also him. Sooner he realizes and harnesses it, the better. Awesome chapter.
