Cloak Games: Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  A huge ringed of fire encircled the entire Ducal Mall, ringing the vast structure. The flames were about thirty or forty feet tall, changing in height as they flickered, and I wondered how the hell the Archons had managed that. Then I worked the spell to sense the presence of magical force.

  The flames were magical. The ring of fire surrounding the mall was a single immense spell of magical power.

  “Elemental fire,” said Corvus. “The Archon wizards must be maintaining it from within.”

  “Swell,” I muttered. “Maybe we can steal a helicopter and come in from the rooftop.”

  “Bad idea, dear,” said Nora. “Spotted a Rebel with a surface-to-air missile launcher up there.” I remembered the Homeland Security helicopter I had seen shot down a few hours ago. “The best you’d be able to manage is a crash landing.”

  “We might not have to,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I…have a spell to resist elemental force. I think I can hold it long enough to get through the wall of fire.”

  “Really,” said Corvus. “I assume you learned it from someone other than Morvilind?”

  “Yep,” I said. “Please don’t mention it to him. I haven’t yet.”

  “Your secret shall be safe with us,” said Corvus.

  Morvilind’s van stopped a hundred yards from the wall of flame, and the mercenaries started emerging from the vehicle. Nora parked the van, and we climbed out. I had traded my AK-47 for a pair of .45 semiautomatic pistols secured in hip holsters that Corvus had given me, and each Shadow Hunter was carrying a small arsenal. The AK-47 was a useful gun, but it was damned big, and the pistols were quicker and lighter.

  Given that I wanted to sneak into the mall and rob the Rebels, smaller and lighter was a good idea.

  I looked at the wall of flames with dismay. “Maybe Lord Morvilind can dispel it.”

  “Your spell will not work?” said Corvus, glancing back at me.

  “It will,” I said dubiously, “but that is a lot of damned elemental fire.” I had been practicing the spell to resist elemental forces that the Knight of Grayhold had taught me, and I had gotten better with it. I thought I could deflect, say, one of Corvus’s lightning globes, or maybe one of the fireballs that the Archons had been dumb enough to use against Morvilind. Something like that curtain of fire would be much harder. I didn’t know if I could hold it back for more than a few seconds, and as we drew closer, I realized that the wall of flame was at least as thick as it was tall.

  Maybe Morvilind could wave his hand and dispel the thing.

  The mercenaries, some of whom I recognized from my training, spread themselves into a perimeter around Morvilind’s van. All of them carried M-99 carbines, the weapons fitted with laser sights and other enhancements not included in the stock model of the gun. Morvilind himself emerged from the van, brushing some dust from the sleeve of his gold-trimmed black robe. He ignored us and walked a few steps forward, gazing at the wall of flames.

  “Interesting,” he said at last. “The remainder of the Archons are displaying a measure of competence.”

  “Can you dispel the wall of flames?” said Corvus.

  “Of course,” said Morvilind. “However, that will immediately draw the attention of the Archon wizards, and I suspect that a few Rebel wizards are inside as well.” He glanced at Corvus. “Your natural enemy, I presume.” He turned back to the mall. “Given the artillerymen upon the roof, an aerial assault would be unwise.”

  “Maybe we could enter through the Shadowlands?” I said, swallowing at the thought. “Open a rift way here, and then open another from the Shadowlands that would reach the mall?”

  “The Archons have layered the building in wards,” said Morvilind. “Any rift way that attempts to open within the circumference of the wards will instead redirect itself to a specific location in the Shadowlands. Likely one of the more unpleasant demesnes.”

  “Then how are we getting inside?” said Corvus.

  Morvilind lifted his hands, and blue light flared around his fingers. Symbols of azure fire appeared around him, orbiting him like comets around a sun, and three concentric rings of flame shimmered on the asphalt, shaping themselves into more symbols. Even without casting the spell to sense magic, I could tell that he was drawing a lot of magical power.

  “I will distract the Archons,” said Morvilind, his voice vibrating with arcane force. “That may prove sufficient to disrupt the wall of flame, or it may not. You shall have to find your own way into the mall. I will remain here until one hour before midnight. If you have not returned by then, I shall assume you are dead and depart Milwaukee to avoid the nuclear blast.”

  Great. That meant I had three and a half hours left.

  “What if we encounter any Archons?” I said.

  “Our blades can deal with them,” said Corvus.

  “Yeah,” I said, “but the Archons might have guns, and a gun beats a sword every time.”

  “Your pistols,” said Morvilind. “They are .45s?” I nodded. “Vladimir!”

  One of Morvilind’s mercenaries stepped forward, a grim-faced, muscular Russian man who had taught me nearly everything I knew about firearms. I didn’t have any fond memories of the man, since he had used to slap me across the side of my head whenever I made a mistake. I glared at him, which he returned with an impassive stare. He handed me two .45 clips, and gave two each to both Corvus and Nora.

  “These clips contain bullets forged from the ore of the Shadowlands,” said Morvilind. “They are quite valuable, so do not squander them. Elves are immune to bullets forged from the metal of Earth, but the Archons will have no such protections from these bullets.”

  “Only eighteen shots each?” said Corvus.

  “I suggest you do not miss,” said Morvilind.

  I gazed at the clips in my hand, feeling the heft and weight of the cool metal. For a moment I visualized sliding the clip into the gun, pointing it at Morvilind’s head, and squeezing the trigger. Yet I knew better. Morvilind would not have given me a weapon unless he was certain that I could not harm him with it, and if I was stupid enough to try, my death would be both painful and protracted.

  “Such useful counsel,” said Corvus, tucking the clips into his tactical vest.

  “Your approval fills me with joy, Shadow Hunter,” said Morvilind. “Go, and return with the Cruciform Eye. I shall distract the Archons.”

  He lifted his right hand and made a hooking motion, and the night suddenly blazed bright as the noon sun. A bolt of blue-white lightning screamed out of the black sky and hurtled towards the mall. It struck an invisible barrier four or five yards above the roof and shattered in a brilliant flash and a spray of blue-white sparks, and for a moment a shimmering dome of translucent light covered the building. A gale of hot wind blew through the parking lot, and I staggered back a step.

  “We should go,” said Corvus. “I do not want to be standing anywhere near Lord Morvilind when the Archons counterattack.”

  I nodded and followed Corvus and Nora as they jogged away, moving along the circumference of the mall. A moment later the parking lot lit up with harsh blue-white light once more as Morvilind struck again, followed a heartbeat later by a blast of fiery light. The Archon wizards counterattacked with fire, and I saw a firestorm sweeping the parking lot behind us, several cars exploding as the elemental fire reached their gas tanks.

  I doubted that the fire was doing anything to Morvilind.

  Yet it was doing something to the ring of flames. As the Archon wizards drew their power to strike back at Morvilind, the wall of fire started to sputter and flicker, like a candle flame caught in the wind. His plan was working. Yet there was still no way we could get through even the weakened wall of flame.

  “Miss Moran!” said Corvus, shouting over the roar of the fire and the snarl of the competing spells. “Can you shield us?”

  I shook my head, a few loose strands of hair whipping around my face in the hot wind. “Not for long enough. We’d have to be fast. Like forty miles an hour
fast.”

  “Could you shield a car?” said Corvus. “Long enough for us to pass the wall?”

  “A car?” I said. “Hell, no. Maybe something smaller, like a bicycle. Or a…”

  My voice trailed off as an idea clicked in my brain.

  “Or a motorcycle,” I said.

  “You don’t have your motorcycle with you,” said Corvus.

  Nora snorted. “She has a motorcycle?” She looked at Corvus. “Of course she has a motorcycle.”

  “I left it here when the Archons attacked,” I said. “This way.”

  I ran down an aisle of parked cars, looking back and forth as I thought back to this morning. Just a little further…

  And there it was, a Royal Motors NX-9 sportbike, black with orange highlights, sitting just where I had parked it.

  “And, of course,” said Nora, shaking her head, “the bike is painted like a tigress.”

  “A tigress?” I said. “My bike does not look like a tigress. A tigress is orange with black stripes. This is black with orange highlights. There’s a difference, you know.”

  Nora shrugged. “Whatever, dear. You know how to drive one of these things?”

  “Yes,” said Corvus and I in unison.

  We looked at each other.

  “But it’s my bike,” I said.

  “Can you work the warding spell and steer the motorcycle at the same time?” said Corvus.

  “No,” I said. After everything that had happened to me today, with everything that was at stake, the wave of irritation that went through me was petty. Yet I didn’t want to let anyone else ride my motorcycle, ever.

  “You still have the keys?” said Corvus.

  “Yes,” I said, digging in my jeans pocket and handing them over. “You had better not scratch it. I mean it. Not a single scratch.”

  “We’re about to ride into a wall of elemental fire,” said Corvus, swinging one leg over the bike. My bike. “If you do not want it scratched, then I suggest you focus upon the warding spell.” He looked at Nora. “There is only room for two.”

  Nora nodded. “I will join you when I can. Perhaps you should take these.” She handed the clips of Shadowlands bullets to him.

  “No,” said Corvus. “You may need them.”

  “I don’t believe in God, but I know you do, so I’ll pray for you,” said Nora.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” I said.

  “God hears all prayers,” said Corvus.

  Nora winked at me. “Go get them, tigress.”

  “Tigress?” I said. “That had better not be my nickname.”

  Nora only grinned.

  “Ready?” said Corvus.

  I nodded and swung onto the bike behind him as Corvus started the engine. He was a lot bigger than I was, and took up most of the seat, so there wasn’t much room. I had to grip his hips with my legs, wrapping my arms around his chest. The engine roared as he revved it, and I had to lean harder against him…

  Okay.

  That felt a lot nicer than I wanted it to feel.

  “Russell was right,” I muttered. “This is more fun with a real boy.”

  “What?” said Corvus, looking back at me.

  “Nothing,” I said, but to my surprise I grinned. There was sort of a dark glee on Corvus’s face. I think part of it was the lure of the Shadow Hunters, his Shadowmorph hungering for life force upon which to feast. The rest of it…Corvus liked motorcycles, too. “I think you should shut up and ride.”

  To my surprise, he winked, turned, and gunned the throttle. My bike rolled forward with a roar, shooting down the aisle and toward the wall of flames. The fire was sputtering madly, and seemed to grow brighter and hotter as we shot towards it.

  “Now!” shouted Corvus.

  I released one hand from his chest, drawing upon every bit of magic I could gather, and cast the spell the Knight of Grayhold had taught me. Gray light shone from my hand, bathing me, Corvus, and my bike in a dome of ghostly light.

  Then we slammed into the fire.

  I felt the fury of the elemental magic close in around me, and I screamed in pain, struggling to hold my barriers of will and magic in place. It was like trying to hold back a river with my bare hands. Every muscle in my body clenched at once, and I heard Corvus grunt as my left arm gripped his chest tighter. I couldn’t hold the spell. It was like trying to lift a thousand pounds above my head. I felt my will buckle, felt my spell collapse…

  And then the pressure vanished as the motorcycle shot through the flames and into the ruined doors of the mall.

  Through. We had gotten through.

  I released the spell with a groan, and Corvus hit the brakes, my bike’s tires skidding against the gleaming tile floor of the mall’s concourse. We skidded to a halt next to a big combined stone bench and floral display. I let out a long, tired breath, sagging against Corvus as I waited for the wave of dizziness from my magical exertion to pass.

  “You all right?” said Corvus.

  “Just peachy,” I said. “Man. Hit me again. One more time.”

  He laughed. “I confess I have never ridden a motorcycle into a wall of flames before.”

  I coughed out a laugh. “We should put on a show. Tour the country. You ride the motorcycle into a ring of fire, and I’ll shield us. We’ll make millions.”

  “You would have to ride the bike in a dress and high heels for the show,” said Corvus.

  “You’d be surprised what I can do in a dress and high heels,” I said. Then I realized that I was still leaning against him, that I was all but wrapped around him, and I jerked back. Even as tired and frightened as I was, that still felt a little too good. I hopped off the bike and caught my balance.

  “Really?” said Corvus, swinging off the motorcycle. “Are you going to show me?”

  I felt my face turn a bit red. “For God’s sake. You can flirt with me later.”

  “I do not think I am the one doing the flirting, Miss Moran,” said Corvus, drawing one of his pistols and shifting it to a two-handed grip.

  “Right,” I said, drawing one of my own guns. A dozen different barbed responses crowded to the tip of my tongue, but he was clever enough to throw them back at me, so for once in my life I chose the course of wisdom and didn’t fire back. “The Eye’s in the food court, on the lower level. You know the way?”

  “I do not,” said Corvus. “I generally do not frequent malls.”

  “Of course you don’t,” I said, starting forward. Corvus followed me in utter silence. The concourse seemed to be deserted, though I saw the signs of fighting and damage everywhere, and quite a few corpses. The emergency lights threw a steady glare, and the flickering light from the wall of flames cast dancing shadows over everything.

  “You do not seem the sort to frequent malls either,” said Corvus, his eyes moving back and forth as he looked for enemies. “Unless you needed more high-heeled shoes?”

  I decided not to take the bait. “I promised to take my brother to the bookstore. He likes historical novels about the Crusades, and…”

  “He does?” said Corvus, and he started listing off a bunch of writers I remembered vaguely from conversations with Russell.

  “You’ll have to ask him about it,” I said. “I don’t…”

  A thunderclap rang from overhead, and the mall trembled, the floor vibrating beneath my shoes. Some dust fell from overhead, and a few of the emergency lights flickered. I wondered if the battle between Morvilind and the Archon wizards would tear down the entire mall. I suppose collapsing the building atop the Cruciform Eye would close the Archons’ rift way, but I didn’t want to be buried with it.

  “Someone’s coming,” said Corvus. He could see in the dark better than I could, a gift of his Shadowmorph. “Six orcs, I think. The Archons must have sent them when we pierced the ward.”

  I looked at the darkened stores around us. “We can hide.”

  Corvus shook his head. “They’re coming right for us. We shall have to fight.”

  “Damn
it,” I said, and then an idea came to me. “I can surprise them.”

  “How?” said Corvus.

  “A Masking spell,” I said.

  Corvus shook his head. “Unless you speak the orcish tongue, it won’t work. The orcs communicate amongst themselves in that language.”

  “I’m not going to Mask myself as an orc,” I said. “Get ready. If you want to surprise them while I hold their attention, that would be best. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t look at me until you hear the orcs start screaming.”

  Corvus scowled, but crossed to a darkened shop that sold fruit juice, vaulted over the counter, and ducked behind it. I shoved the pistol back into its holster and waited. A moment later a half-dozen orcish soldiers came into sight, AK-47s in hand, their heads turning back and forth as they looked for the intrusion.

  “Hey!” I shouted as I gathered power for the spell. “Over here! Looking for me?”

  The orcs turned towards me, the barrels of their weapons swinging around, and I cast the Masking spell. Usually I employed the Masking spell to disguise myself as someone else, wrapping myself in an illusion. This time, though, as all the orcs looked at me, I Masked myself as something else.

  Specifically, as the noon sun.

  I had stumbled upon that little trick during Rogomil’s attack on the State Capitol in Madison. The orcs stumbled back, squinting in the illusionary glare of the light pouring off me, and opened fire. But I was already rolling across the floor, and their frantic shots went wild, ricocheting off the floor or smashing the windows of nearby shops.

  Corvus sprinted towards the orcish soldiers, his pistol in both hands. The gun spat, and two orcs fell dead. I rolled upon my back, gun braced in both hands, and started shooting. I got another of the orcs, blue blood splashing across the white floor, and by then Corvus was among them like a lion amidst sheep. The dark blade of force appeared in his hands, and he killed the three remaining orcs in quick succession. He moved faster as he did it, the Shadowmorph within him draining away the orcs’ lives and feeding their strength into him.

  I got to my feet, and Corvus’s void-filled eyes met mine. A physical wave of attraction went through me, so intense that it was like touching a stripped wire. It was the lure of his Shadowmorph, the thing within him that feasted upon spilled life, drawing me to its dark glamour.