I headed over to the Westside Highway and raced uptown before morning traffic snarled everything. It was time to go see Aria and learn how to stop a Wordweaver.
TWENTY
The Cloisters was a hive of activity.
I pulled up to the entrance and found myself staring at what could only be the Wordweaver welcoming committee of pain. Aria stood by the entrance flanked by four Wordweavers, two on either side. They wore the usual white robe covered in runic brocade. Aria was dressed in what I could only call Rebel Wordweaver.
She wore a black T-shirt that read: If you find the food & drinks offensive-we suggest you stop finding us. This was matched with a pair of black jeans and combat boots. The disconnect with the Weavers beside her was stark. I wasn’t used to seeing her out of her Wordweaver robes.
Today, she was dressed for battle or a violent mosh pit. Holstered to one thigh, I saw a gun almost as large as Thorn. On her other leg, a thigh sheath held a long blade covered in dark runes. Her hair was pulled back in a tight braid that was finished with several sharp hair clips and small daggers. It was like looking at Dark Aria.
I really doubted this was in response to my visit, but I hoped Honor placed that call.
I cut the engine and stepped out of the Cuda.
I made sure to keep my hands visible, careful to make no sudden movements. Wordweavers used words to reshape reality, usually in lethal ways. The sensation of facing such primal power was unlike meeting TK. With TK it felt personal. If she erased you, it was because you did something to deserve it or just pissed her off. You had some power over your own destruction.
The Wordweavers felt impersonal, like a force of nature. They made you feel like you accidentally stepped outside and found yourself in the eye of a hurricane. Everything appeared calm, but you experienced a visceral feeling of chaotic destruction looming close. The fact that Wordweavers were considered the most powerful runecasters on the face of the earth did little to put me at ease.
“This is not a good day for a visit, Ronin,” Aria said. “I’m busy.”
She gestured to the Weavers next to her. They stepped away silently leaving us alone.
“I promise not to take up too much of your time,” I said glancing around at all the activity going on around the property. “You planning an event? I didn’t know Wordweavers moshed.”
“We don’t,” she said, giving me a withering glare. “What do you need? As you can see I have things to tend to.”
“The exile, Haran.”
She gave me a long look. “Follow me.”
We stepped into the Cloisters and headed down several hallways. After a few minutes, I was throughly lost and knew, there was no way I could find my way back to the entrance without a map and a sherpa.
“This place is a labyrinth,” I said, noticing that all of the corridors looked alike. “Just how large is the Cloisters?”
Aria stopped at a door I could swear was non-existent a second earlier, and smiled at me. She opened the door and motioned for me to enter. I stepped inside and she followed. She closed the door behind us. I glanced back and saw the door had vanished. We were standing in an empty room. Every surface held softly pulsing green runes.
“Time and space in the Cloisters tends to be relative,” she answered, looking at me. “This room”—she extended an arm—“is a null space. Your blade, brace, and weapon are rendered inoperative in here. Please, take a moment to confirm this.”
I unsheathed Sliver and saw the runes were dormant. Thorn was in the same condition. I aimed it at a wall and looked at Aria who nodded at me. I pulled the trigger and…nothing. I pulled up my sleeve and saw the display on Cait had gone dark.
No response. I tried my corneal implant and received no input. It was like stepping into an EMP room of massive strength. I’d never experienced anything that could shut down Cait so completely. It still didn’t explain Thorn malfunctioning.
“Nothing works,” I said with a creeping sense of dread. “This space. Is this place an armature?”
“I’m going to ask the questions,” she said quietly. “Your answers will determine if you die here and now or live to see another dawn. Understood?”
This visit had gone from fact-finding to life-threatening faster than I could process. I raised my hands in surrender.
“I’m not here to fight you,” I said, keeping my voice measured. “Didn’t Honor call you?”
“He did,” Aria answered, her voice as welcoming as a blade between the ribs. “That’s the only reason we’re still speaking right now and not wiping your bloody carcass from the walls. Tell me how you know about Haran.”
I made a mental note: Aria—definitely scarier than TK.
I explained how Division 13 was responsible for Belladonna and how Delilah had stolen the strain and sold it unknowingly to Haran who then, with Lyrra’s help, modified and released it on the streets as Redrum.
I also told her about the connection between Haran, the Tenebrous, and the hybrids roaming the streets. I deliberately neglected to mention Tigris. Somehow, I felt that information wasn’t going to help matters.
“A Wordweaver is capable of summoning these creatures, yes,” she said after a moment of reflection. “Why are you here?”
“How do I stop him?” I asked.
“How can you stop someone you can’t find?” she asked. “Besides, you aren’t a mage and wield no magic. Do you even know what you would be facing? Haran could erase you with a few words. He wasn’t the strongest Wordweaver, but he is stronger than you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I am a realist,” she said. “The problem with you and agencies like yours is that you think you can operate anywhere with impunity. The world of magic is unfathomable to non-magic users. It crushes the ignorant and ill-prepared into dust mercilessly, and without apology.”
“Here’s the reality,” I said, still keeping my voice even. Pissing her off would only shorten my life expectancy, but I needed her help. “If he isn’t stopped, the Tenebrous that’s out there chewing up mages like snacks is only the beginning. I’ve already faced one psycho mage and one of those rummogre hybrids. I can tell you from personal experience we don’t want more of those things on the street.”
“You think I don’t know that?” she snapped. “Do you know where he is?”
“I think he’s under the Delacorte Theater in the park, near the old Night Warden Keep,” I said, slowly. “He’s using the old Warden tunnels to travel the city undetected.”
“That would make sense,” she said. “The Warden tunnels were runed to provide the Night Wardens camouflage and unobstructed access to the city. They were sealed, but if he managed to undo the seals, he could go anywhere and no one would notice.”
“How do I stop him?”
“You can’t,” she said. “Your gun is useless, even with the negation rounds. You’d never get one shot off. Likewise, the runed blade. He’d never let you get close enough to cut him. Facing him would be suicide for you. The only way you would stand a chance is if you could stop him from uttering a word.”
“Stop him from speaking?” I asked. “With what? Duct tape?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t offer you a better strategy. If you face him, armed as you are, you will die.”
TWENTY-ONE
Aria whispered a word and a door formed in the wall.
“I strongly advise against going after Haran on your own. Let us handle him.”
“By us you mean the magical community?”
“Yes,” Aria said. “The magical community.”
“You mean the same magical community that is currently doing nothing about the Tenebrous roaming the city, killing mages, and using their bodies as shells. The same community that isn’t stop
ping the infestation of rummers and other creatures calling the park home? That magical community?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve made your point,” she said with a nod. “You still can’t face him.”
“I’m not going to wait for the magical community either. By the time they decide to do something it’ll be too late.”
“That door will lead you to your vehicle,” she said, pointing to the newly formed exit. “I’ll inform Luca as to the cause of your demise if you insist on this course of action alone.”
“I’m not dead yet,” I said, opening the door. “Thousands of candles can be lit from one candle. Today, I’m that candle.”
“Remember it only takes a gentle breeze to snuff out a candle,” her words followed me as I left the room and the Cloisters. I followed the short corridor to another door. Outside, a Wordweaver in the usual robes stood near the Cuda, waiting for me. When she saw me approach, she gave me a short bow and walked away. I jumped into the Cuda, started the engine with a throaty purr, and pulled away.
“Where did you go?” Luca asked. I could hear the concern in her voice. I preferred to face Aria again rather than confronting Luca about her feelings for me. “You dropped off the grid suddenly. Not even Reese could find you.”
“Short trip uptown. Aria.”
“That place always makes me uneasy,” she said. “Too much concentrated power in one location.”
“I know the feeling,” I agreed. “You ready to die?”
“Don’t joke,” she answered. “This has to look real or Delilah will know you aren’t rogue.”
“She’s still pissed Division 13 tried to blow her up.”
“Not the kind of thing you get over, Ronin. Now pay attention because this is going to take some precision timing.”
She explained the plan to me and I immediately thought she had lost her mind.
“The Director signed off on this insanity you call a plan?”
“He doesn’t have a choice, and neither do you,” she answered calmly. “Did she give you a way to make contact?”
“Yes, a one-use encrypted number,” I said. “I’m getting the feeling she doesn’t trust me.”
“Which is why this has to work,” Luca said. “The slightest doubt will collapse the entire plan. Call her and let her know you’ll meet in two days at the designated location.”
“If I survive the conversation with the exile, killing you will be a nice break.”
“Don’t forget Grace,” Luca said. “I’m certain she hasn’t forgotten you.”
“I’m sure she hasn’t,” I said. “First things first. I have an exile to stop.”
“You know if you just point D13 in the right direction we could offer substantial back up and—”
“Let Delilah know that we’re working together and I’m not really rogue,” I finished. “I’ll handle the exile, you find a way to die without really dying.”
“Don’t get dead,” she said. “Or I swear, I’ll bring you back and kill you for real.”
“That’s the warm and fuzzy Assistant Director I know.”
“Fuck you, Ronin.”
She hung up and I sighed. Luca was really worried or she would’ve never offered backup. She wasn’t the only one. I still had no clue how to stop a Wordweaver from speaking or what the hell the verse TK gave me meant.
TWENTY-TWO
“You survived both TK and Aria in one day,” Honor said. “That must be some kind of unofficial record for you.”
“Hilarious,” I said. “I’m on my way to check out the Warden tunnels under the park .”
“You won’t have an outside signal down there.”
“I had a feeling I’d go dark. Have you ever faced a Wordweaver in combat?”
“No, I generally enjoy breathing and the simple things—like not being obliterated.”
“How would you?”
“How would I what? Be obliterated?”
“Fight one,” I said. “How would you stop a Wordweaver?”
“Honestly? I’d go for the throat or oxygen supply, removing one or the other prevents speech and prevents access to their power.”
“Stop them from speaking and I can stop their access.”
“That’s what I said,” Honor answered. “Are you certain you can’t just leave this one to the Councils?”
“I’m certain. Thanks for your idea. Let me know if you figure out the verse.”
“What idea?” Honor asked. “What are you talking about.”
“Talk to you later,” I said and ended the call. “Cait, I have an idea on how to stop the Wordweaver.”
“Better than duct tape?”
“DAF,” I said.
“Daft? Yes, this plan certainly qualifies.”
“Not daft, DAF as in Delayed Auditory Feedback,” I corrected. “Can you calibrate your beacon to subdermal insertion?”
“Yes, one of its uses is for remote medkit applications.”
“I want you to outfit it with a DAF transponder as well as an explosive charge. Can you do it?”
“I’m assuming I’m generating the originating signal?”
“Yes, it’s the only way he’ll follow us,” I said. “Is it possible?”
“Yes, but the charge won’t be powerful. It will only possess the explosive equivalent of a squib.”
“That should be enough, especially if it’s subdermal.”
“I can prepare three, considering my resources.”
“Do it,” I said. “How long?”
“Approximately thirty minutes for first one, and fifteen minutes for each successive disc.”
“That should give us enough time,” I said, speeding down the Henry Hudson Parkway. “I want to get to the Delacorte before it gets dark.”
We reached the park by mid-afternoon. I made a left on the 79th Transverse and headed into Central Park proper. I parked the Cuda in front of Belvedere Castle and made my way north through the castle and to the theater.
The Delacorte was famous for its yearly productions of Shakespeare in the Park. The theater itself is an open-air venue nestled in the trees between Turtle Pond, the Great Lawn, and Belvedere Castle. I took the northern stairs down and approached the theater seating when Cait chirped.
I heard them before I saw them. I didn’t expect Turtle Pond to be crowded, but I noticed it was deserted. Now I knew why. Several groups of rummers were headed my way. If anyone had been in their path they would’ve been eliminated.
I ran for the theater and headed down one of the service ramps that led to a closed door.
Fortunately it was an electrical lock. I placed my hand on the metal surface and felt for the locking mechanism. I
felt the lock in my mind and slowly moved my hand, coaxing the lock open. A few seconds later the door opened with a loud click.
I pulled the door open and stepped inside quickly, closing it silently behind me.
I waited half a minute until my eyes adjusted to the darkness.
I turned right at the junction and walked until I faced a large, rune-covered wooden door.
“Well, shit,” I said. “What kind of wood is that and can I get past it?”
“That is Australian Buloke,” Cait said in her sexy wikivoice. “The runes inscribed on its surface serve as a type of combination lock. I don’t carry enough explosive material to break through that door, neither do you.”
I stepped back and examined the door. This was one of those moments when I seriously started to reconsider the choices that led me to the present course I was on. Some of the runes were active and remained visible. Others flashed on at intervals. The door stood two meters tall and half as wide, and it put out a serious ‘abandon all hope ye who enter here’ vibe when I stood in front of it.
The Magekiller Page 9