Cloak Games: Truth Chain Page 17

  Arvalaeon had taken me and turned me into someone else, someone who could do these kinds of things. Psychological torment, indeed. He had broken me into a billion shards and rebuilt me into someone who could serve his purposes.

  God, I hated him.

  But he wasn’t the one who was about to kill forty million people, so I walked towards Castomyr, gun ready. I wove my way through the milling anthrophages, coming closer and closer. At last, I was fifteen yards away, and I thought I could put a bullet through Castomyr’s skull at that distance without missing.

  I took another deep breath and started to raise the gun, and then another of those pulses of purple fire washed out from the vortex and rolled across the floor. I flinched, wondering if the fire would harm me, but it passed through me without hurt.

  As it did, I realized that it was a kind of magical turbulence. To use a metaphor, Castomyr was throwing rocks into a lake and creating ripples.

  The fact that the ripple also collapsed my Cloak spell was just an unlucky coincidence.

  I froze for an instant in surprise, and a half-dozen anthrophages whirled to face me. They loosed their screeching, tearing hunting cries, and Castomyr’s head snapped up from the podium, his eyes going wide in shock.

  I was out of time. I pointed the gun at him and started shooting.

  My aim was hurried, and Castomyr was quick. He twisted to the side, and the shot that should have taken him in the head instead clipped his right shoulder, and my second shot missed entirely. Blood darkened his blue coat, and he snarled and ducked, harsh blue-white light pulsing around his fingers. I recognized the light, and I cast the spell to resist elemental forces. I did it just in time, too, because five lightning globes erupted from his hand and slammed into me. The globes shattered into a spray of sparks, but my hair stood on end from the force of the electrical discharge. Had they struck me, they probably would have stopped my heart and turned my brain to scrambled egg.

  “Kill her!” thundered Castomyr. “Kill her! Don’t let her disrupt the spell!”

  He started casting another spell, crouching behind the podium. A few steps to the left and I could put a bullet through him. But dozens of anthrophages were racing towards me, and both anthrophage elders began casting spells of their own. If I stood still for another second, I was dead.

  I sprinted to the left, away from the circle, and cast the Cloak spell again. I vanished from sight, and an instant later a volley of destruction rained onto the spot where I had been standing. Castomyr flung a lance of blazing fire, and one of the elders threw a lightning globe while the second cast an ice spike. The combined spells ripped a charred crater into the floor, splinters flying.

  “She can Cloak!” said Castomyr, gesturing towards the vortex.

  I started to aim for him again, and another ring of purple fire washed out from the vortex at Castomyr’s call, rolling across the banquet hall. I just had time to curse, and then I was sprinting as my Cloak collapsed again. Castomyr started to work another spell, but I shot at him, and he ducked behind his podium with a curse. The mob of anthrophages rushed after me, and I Cloaked again, my mind spinning with the strain of casting so many spells. I was a lot stronger than I had been, but my strength still had limits, and the Cloak spell was difficult. If I didn’t end this now, I was going to run out of steam, and the anthrophages would overwhelm me.

  I would have laughed, had I been able to spare the breath to do so. It had all been for nothing. Arvalaeon and his damned Eternity Crucible had made me stronger, far stronger, but Castomyr was still more powerful, and I couldn’t fight him and his mob of anthrophages at the same time. I had become powerful enough to escape from the Crucible, but it still wasn’t enough.

  Except…it hadn’t been magical strength that had gotten me out of the Eternity Crucible, had it? At least, not entirely. I had done something clever, rigging up those bombs and the exploding truck. Magical power alone had not been enough to engineer my escape.

  Could I do something clever here?

  Castomyr was looking for me. Could I disguise myself as something else with the Mask spell? No, he would be able to sense a Mask. Except the same magical turbulence that was collapsing my Cloaking spells might also make sensing a Mask spell difficult.

  Dare I risk it?

  I couldn’t think of anything better.

  I hurried away from Castomyr, trying to put as many anthrophages between us as possible, preparing the Mask spell in my thoughts. Another pulse of purple fire burst from the vortex of shadows, and all the anthrophages looked towards it, trying to find me. Before the fire could reach me, I dropped my Cloak spell, and the instant after the fire passed through me, I cast the Mask.

  I managed it, though the effort of casting two powerful spells right after each other made me a bit dizzy.

  I Masked myself as an anthrophage, with the same leathery gray hide, the same gaunt form, and the same yellow eyes and black fangs and claws. I started running forward, the anthrophages darting back and forth around me. I could see the elders heading towards me. If they got close enough, they would sense the Masking spell, but the turbulence from the great summoning spell made my own magic harder to sense, like trying to find a single candle flame in a forest fire.

  I ran towards Castomyr.

  “Find her!” he roared. “Find her and kill her!” As I drew closer, I saw that he seemed…wrong, somehow. When I had last seen him, he had been a cold and aloof Elven lord. Now he looked insane, his eyes bulging, spittle frothing at his lips, a vein pulsing in his forehead. Whatever had happened to him since I had last seen him, it had made him insane enough to attempt to summon a Great Dark One.

  Maybe he had stared into the Void for a little too long.

  “What are you waiting for?” Castomyr said again. “Find her! Find her now! I…”

  I raised my gun, aimed at his chest, and put three rounds through him. Castomyr staggered back with an expression of shock, blood staining his coat and shirt, and I shot him twice in the head.

  That sent him in a heap to the floor, but I emptied the rest of the clip into his head, just to be safe.

  I whirled, intending to Cloak and run for it, but the anthrophages had gone motionless, even the elders. One by one they shivered and vanished into gray mist, disappearing back into the Shadowlands. The summoning spell on them must have ended the minute that Castomyr died. I didn’t know much about summoning magic, but I did know that many of a wizard’s spells ended on his death, and it seemed that Castomyr’s summoning spells had been one of them.

  Did that include the great summoning?

  I looked at the vortex and the circle of purple flames. The circle was sputtering like an electric light about to die, and the vortex was shrinking. As I gazed into the vortex, I had a sudden terrible sense of presence, of some vast mind marking me for future vengeance, of something malevolent and alien beyond human comprehension.

  I looked away at once. Maybe Castomyr had indeed spent a little too long looking into the darkness.

  The circle winked out, and the vortex vanished, leaving me alone in the cavernous hall.

  I crossed to Castomyr’s podium. There was a massive leather bound book resting upon it, open to a page showing a diagram of the circle that had been burning upon the floor and a long spell in Elven hieroglyphics. I didn’t touch the book. Arvalaeon could deal with the thing.

  Speaking of that…

  I reversed my grip on the emptied pistol and used it to knock the Thanatar Stone off its perch. The Stone hit the floor, flashed, and went dark, and something inside it seemed to go still. I looked at the dark object for a moment, then dropped my empty gun and started walking from the banquet hall.

  “Report,” said Arvalaeon’s voice in my ear.

  “Report,” said Alan.

  I threw off my headset and kept walking.

  Alan’s soldiers started to swarm through the mansion, but it was a simple thing to Cloak myself and leave them behind.

  Chapter 12: The Price Of
Magic

  By about 7 PM, I found myself in downtown La Crosse, walking along one of the waterfront streets. It was mostly bars and restaurants in this part of the city, and it was strange to be around so many actual humans. I kept jumping at shadows, expecting to see anthrophages surge out of the doorways, or cytospawn flying overhead, or a wave of bomber beetles to come swarming out a storm drain.

  But there was nothing like that. Just people.

  From what I overhead, people knew something was going on. There were rumors of an explosion at Baron Castomyr’s mansion, and Homeland Security had sealed off the roads leading out of La Crosse. Despite that, they had not imposed a curfew on the city itself, and no one seemed too concerned. The roadblocks would be opened once the trouble was resolved, and that would be that.

  And if the Archons or the Rebels decided to make trouble, the men of La Crosse would show them otherwise.

  Their confidence was admirable but misplaced. I had lived through enough Rebel mayhem to know otherwise.

  I wandered the streets, trying to put together a plan. I needed to steal a car and get back to Milwaukee. Tonight, though, would be a bad idea. The local branch of Homeland Security was on high alert, and I would have to get through a roadblock. Of course, that couldn’t stop me, not any longer. Maybe I could Mask myself as someone else. Maybe I could Cloak myself and hide in an outbound truck.

  Maybe I could call fire and lightning and slaughter every single Homeland Security officer at the roadblock.

  I shivered a little in revulsion at the thought.

  No, Homeland Security did not frighten me as much as it once did.

  I had so many other things to be frightened of now.

  Eventually, I wandered into a little coffee shop. It was crowded, with couples and families sitting at tables. Riordan and I had gone to places like this a lot.

  I wondered if he would even recognize me now. I looked the same, I hadn’t aged…but everything else about me had changed.

  “Can I help you?” said the perky girl behind the counter. She was blond and pretty and cheerful with a bright white smile. Girl? No, she had to be twenty-three or twenty-four, a few years older than I was.

  Except that I felt like I was a hundred and seventy-nine years old now. I had lived every one of those years in pain and torment, even if it had been only five minutes to everyone else in the world.

  The girl’s smile started to slip a little. Maybe I was giving off a vibe of madness the way that Castomyr had done in his final moments.

  “Um,” I said. “Sorry.” When was the last time I had had a conversation with a human I didn’t want to kill? “Uh. Coffee. Black. No sugar or anything. Just coffee, please.”

  Her smile returned. “Certainly. Be right up!” I dug out some money that I had been carrying for a century and a half and handed it over, and the girl passed me a cardboard cup of coffee. I stared at it, transfixed by the smell.

  It had been so long.

  “Miss?” said the girl. “I’m sorry, but…are you all right?”

  I blinked and looked her in the eye. She flinched a little.

  “No,” I said, and left.

  I walked out the front door and circled to the back. There wasn’t much out here, just a half-full parking lot and a dumpster. I walked past it and came to the edge of the Mississippi River proper. There was a concrete retaining wall overlooking the river, about twelve feet high, and I sat on its edge and looked at the sun creeping towards the bluffs on the Minnesota side of the river.

  Real sunlight. Real, actual sunlight. A sky that wasn’t on fire and twisting with ribbons of energy.

  I took a sip of the coffee. It was bitter and harsh and hot, and it tasted so good I started weeping a little.

  I sat there for about a half an hour, sipping the coffee and crying in silence until I heard the rasp of a boot against the gravel path running along the retaining wall.

  I knew that Alan’s goons had taken a vial of my blood, so when I looked up I wasn’t surprised to see Arvalaeon standing a few feet away, his long black coat stirring in the evening breeze.

  We stared at each other for a moment.

  “Go away,” I said at last, wiping away my tears.

  “Perhaps you will be pleased to know that we were successful,” said Arvalaeon. “Castomyr’s death completely undid the summoning, and the spell collapsed before it could draw any Dark Ones to this world, or before the feedback from the spell could cause an explosion.” He stepped to the edge of the wall, gazing at the water. “The Thanatar Stone is secured, as was his book. The book itself was one of only three surviving copies, created in the ancient days when the cults of the Dark Ones first arose upon Kalvarion. The Archons have one, Castomyr evidently found the second, and the third remains hidden.”

  “Good for you,” I said. “Now go away.”

  “You think yourself ill-used,” said Arvalaeon.

  I was too tired to be angry.

  “Really?” I said. “You locked me in your Eternity Crucible for a hundred and fifty-eight years. I died in agony again and again. I spent years insane, and I don’t think I’m going to get better. Yes, I feel myself ill-used.”

  “You said you wanted power,” said Arvalaeon.

  I scoffed. “For God’s sake! I said I wanted power. I didn’t say I wanted you to torture me for a century and a half.”

  “Come with me,” said Arvalaeon.

  “No,” I said. “I’m done with you. And you gave me your word, great and powerful Lord Inquisitor. I killed Castomyr for you. I kept my side of the bargain.”

  “You wanted power,” said Arvalaeon, “but you don’t understand what it means to wield power. You don’t understand the cost…”

  “I think I understand just fine, thanks,” I said.

  “No,” said Arvalaeon. “You don’t. Come with me, and I will show you.” I tensed, getting ready to fight. “No fighting, no Eternity Crucibles. I will show you a window for a few moments. Then you will be free to go.”

  I stared at him for a while. He stared back.

  “Hell.” I got to my feet and finished off the coffee. “Fine. But if you’re going to kill me, just do it without all the damn speeches already.”

  “Come,” said Arvalaeon. “Cast the Occlusion spell around yourself. We do not wish to be noticed and cause a panic among the people of La Crosse.”

  I scowled, but followed his example and cast the Occlusion spell. It is a weak spell of mind magic, one designed to prevent people from noticing you. I mean, people see you just fine, move out of your way and all that, but you don’t register with them unless you do something explicitly threatening.

  Pity it doesn’t work in combat situations. Might have saved myself a lot of trouble.

  I followed Arvalaeon to the street, and we walked for a couple of blocks. Finally, he stopped at a restaurant with a lot of big picture windows overlooking the street.

  “Look,” he said.

  “At what?” I said.

  “The cost of wielding power,” said Arvalaeon.

  I rolled my eyes and looked. The restaurant was full, with every table and booth taken. It looked like the restaurant catered to families because every table and booth had children seated there. I saw dozens of families eating dinner, some of them talking, some of them laughing, a few of them arguing quietly.

  “What am I looking at?” I said, but I thought I knew.

  “That child,” said Arvalaeon, pointing at a little boy of about three years. He was eating a plate of fries with a big happy grin. “If Castomyr had succeeded, the explosion would have reached this place within seconds. The child is too young to understand such things. Nevertheless, he would have died in agony. The fire would have stripped the skin from his bones and made his eyes boil in his sockets. He would have died and never understood why. That girl.” He pointed to a girl of about five who was busily drawing with a crayon on her placemat. “From the way she is seated, her mother would have been killed first. In her final instant of life
, she would have seen her mother burn like a torch. The last thing she would have heard was her mother’s screams.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I snapped.

  “It is horrible, isn’t it?” said Arvalaeon. “And imagine it multiplied for five or six hundred miles in every direction. Ten million children, all dying in agony at once, and thirty million adults as well. Imagine you had the power to stop that. Wouldn’t you? I had the power to stop it from happening, but to use that power, I had to make a choice.” He held up his palms in imitation of a scale. “On one hand, the lives of forty million people. On the other hand, inflicting intolerable terrible agony upon you to reforge you into a weapon capable of stopping Castomyr. I had the power to choose, and so I chose.”

  I said nothing.

  “I regret that choice,” said Arvalaeon, gazing at the families. “I regret many of my choices. But I would have still made them. And while I regret what I did to you, I would still have done it.”

  Still I said nothing.

  “When you have nightmares,” said Arvalaeon, “and you will have nightmares, probably for the rest of your life, perhaps it will comfort you to know that there are teeming millions who live because of the pain you have endured.”

  At last, I found my voice.

  “We’re done,” I said. “I don’t want a lecture. If I ever see you again, I will kill you.”

  “You can try,” said Arvalaeon, calm as ever. “Perhaps you will even succeed. If you do, it will be nothing less than I have earned. Remember this, though. You have power now…and with power comes choices. Choose wisely.”

  I turned to leave.

  “Before you go,” he said, “take this.”