Cloak Games: Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  One of the Rebel soldiers emerged from the kitchen, wreathed in flames. I couldn’t tell if he was screaming or not. He managed two steps before he fell and stopped moving. The greasy smell of charred meat and the rancid smell of burned hair filled my nostrils in a vile mix.

  Burning was a horrible way to die, and I had just sent a dozen men to that kind of death.

  But I remembered those pregnant women and little children in the mall.

  I stumbled down the service corridor and released my spell, coughing and wheezing, my lungs and my eyes burning from the undoubtedly toxic fumes coming from the Asian restaurant’s kitchen. My head was spinning, either from exhaustion or whatever stuff I had inhaled, and I took a moment to catch my breath, one hand braced against the concrete wall.

  Right. I had to keep moving. I didn’t know how many Rebels were left, and I had no idea where Rogomil was, but I was certain he would be coming after me. I was also certain that I couldn’t fight that dark magic of his, the powers the Dark Ones had given him. Of course, I didn’t need to fight him. I just had to get the Eye and get out. Maybe he would pursue me, and then Morvilind could turn him into a greasy stain on the pavement.

  Now that was a pleasant thought.

  I shoved away from the wall, wobbled a little, and caught my balance. I would head back to the balcony and take stock of the situation. Maybe Corvus had killed Rogomil already, or maybe he had spirited away the Eye. Or maybe he would have drawn off Rogomil, and I could take the Eye and get it to Morvilind. I jogged along the service corridor, looking for the access doors back to the balcony.

  I turned a corner and skidded to a stop.

  The double doors to the dining area on the balcony stood open. They were open because a pair of Rebel soldiers had just come through them. Both of the soldiers had heard me, and they stood with their AK-47s leveled right at my chest. I didn’t have time to dodge, to cast a spell, even to speak.

  My luck had finally run out.

  The Rebels grinned, and gunshots rang out. I flinched, expecting to feel the bullets tear into my chest, but I didn’t feel anything. I did see a crimson mist burst around the two Rebels, and I heard two more gunshots. The Rebels collapsed, groaning, and I saw a dark shape standing in the double doors behind them, a pistol in hand.

  Nora limped into sight, wincing with every step.

  “Good timing,” I said, my voice shaky.

  “Thanks,” said Nora.

  She looked hurt. Her left sleeve was missing, and I saw livid red burns running up her arm and the side of her neck. She saw me staring and grinned.

  “Got through the fire, but I didn’t time it quite right,” she said.

  “That looks really painful,” I said.

  “Oh, it is,” said Nora, “but fortunately there is a cure readily at hand.”

  She rolled her right wrist, and lines of shadow flowed down her fingers, stark against her dark skin. The Shadowmorph blade sprang into existence, and she stepped towards the dying Rebels and struck. The blade sank into the heart of the nearest dying Rebel, and the man let out an agonized groan. The dark sword pulsed, and filaments of throbbing shadow wrapped up Nora’s arm. As they did, the burns started to shrink, healthy skin reappearing over the damaged tissue.

  By the time she killed the second Rebel a few heartbeats later, her wound had vanished.

  “Oh, that’s better,” said Nora, rolling her arms as the Shadowmorph blade retreated. Her expression was…serene, almost satisfied. “Burns are simply the worst. The nerves will not keep quiet about them, I am afraid.”

  “Yeah,” I said. My own nerves were thoroughly creeped out. Creeped out…and intrigued. What would it be like, I wondered, to have that kind of power? It was the same sort of fascination I had felt when looking at the Cruciform Eye, a sort of wild fantasy of what I would do with that power at my disposal. “Bet it’s useful.”

  “It is,” said Nora. She reloaded her pistol. “Where’s Riordan?”

  “You didn’t see him?” I said.

  Nora shook her head. “I came in through one of the customer parking ramps. You said the Eye was in a food court, so I headed that way. Then I saw the explosion…did you do that?”

  I nodded, wiping some sweat from my forehead.

  “Dear me, tigress,” said Nora. “Dear me. I think I see why Riordan likes you.”

  “For God’s sake,” I said. “You’re as bad as my brother. Corvus will be in the food court. The plan was that I would lure the Rebels off and he would steal the Eye.”

  I headed towards the doors.

  “Why didn’t you steal the Eye and Riordan lure away the Rebels?” said Nora, following me. “You are the thief.”

  “Um.” I paused at the doors, looking around the balcony. Several stores away the Asian grill burned brightly. Just as well the food court had so much empty space, otherwise we might have all choked to death on the toxic fumes. “I sort of screwed over their commander once, and he’s still a little pissed about it. I…”

  There was another thunderclap, but this time from inside the building.

  It was the sound of Corvus’s lightning spell.

  I jogged forward, ready to duck, and came to the railing.

  Below I saw Corvus running through the food court, moving with the speed of a Shadow Hunter. Rogomil stood twenty yards away, wreathed in black fire, purple light shining from his fingers. He thrust out his hand, and a cone of black fire rolled from his palm and across the floor. The white floor tiles turned gray and cracked where the entropic fire touched them, and the metal tables sagged and pitted with rust. I didn’t want to find out what happened when the fire of dark magic touched living flesh. Fortunately, Corvus was fast enough to avoid Rogomil’s spell, but only just. Rogomil continued his attacks, and Corvus had to keep moving to avoid them.

  I wondered if Rogomil’s strength would fail before Corvus’s did. Paul McCade had transformed into a misshapen monster when Corvus and I had fought him, but he had been possessed by a Dark One. I didn’t think Rogomil was possessed, but the power the Dark Ones had given him didn’t seem to tax his stamina at all.

  “Well,” said Nora, “that’s quite enough of that.”

  She raised her pistol in a two-handed grip and started shooting. Accuracy with a pistol over long distances is challenging, but Nora managed it. She got off five or six shots, and all of them slammed into Rogomil’s back.

  Or they would have, had the bullets not disappeared in flashes of purple light as they struck him. Rogomil whirled, his face livid with fury, and gestured in our direction.

  “Run!” I shouted.

  I didn’t have to tell Nora twice. We sprinted away from the railing as a blast of Rogomil’s dark fire struck it. I heard a groaning, crackling noise as the railing turned to rust. Another thunderclap came from the food court as Corvus threw a lightning globe at Rogomil, and the Rebel commander roared in pain and fury. Unlike the bullets, the magical spell seemed to hurt him.

  If bullets couldn’t touch Rogomil, then maybe magic would do the trick. Or the shadow blades of Corvus and Nora, if I could distract Rogomil long enough for the Shadow Hunters to close and kill him.

  “Come on,” I said, running for the escalator. We raced down the steps to the first level, the howling sound of Rogomil’s dark fire filling my ears. I reached the first level and sprinted into the food court, drawing my power together for a spell. The place was a wreck, the furniture reduced to sticks of rust, the tiles dissolving into gritty gray ash beneath my shoes. I cast my spell, and the globe of lightning leaped from my fingers to strike Rogomil.

  The spell dissolved into the black fire, but some of the shocking force touched him. Rogomil rocked back with a scream of pain.

  “Enough!” Rogomil shouted. “Lay down your weapons and I will kill you quickly. You cannot stand against the liberation of mankind and the defeat of the High Queen!”

  “Want to bet?” I called, preparing another spell. “You’re an idiot, Rogomil. The High Queen’s going t
o nuke the city rather than let your Archon buddies build themselves a bridgehead. If you start running now, you might not lose what’s left of your hair to radiation poisoning.”

  “Foolish girl,” said Rogomil. “Do you not understand? This is the day of the Revolution. This is the first day of the downfall of the High Queen.”

  “And you will achieve that victory,” said Corvus, breathing hard, “by allying yourself with the Dark Ones?”

  “The liberators,” said Rogomil, and a cold smile appeared on his stern features. “Once I thought as you do. I thought it madness when I first heard it, but then I communed with the liberators and received their gifts. With their power we shall overthrow the old order of the things. The Elves are the oppressor class, and humanity is the oppressed class. With the power of the liberators, we shall overthrow the Elves…and the cringing dogs who lick at their masters’ feet. Such as the Shadow Hunters.”

  “Sergei Rogomil,” said Corvus, his voice formal. “You have admitted to consorting with the Dark Ones of the Void. Unless you repent of your madness, this crime carries the punishment of death.”

  “The liberators told me of your kind,” said Rogomil. “The Shadow Hunters, the whining dogs who think to defeat us. You are fools. The liberators shall free all humanity, first from the High Queen and then from the prisons of time and flesh and causality…”

  “That sounds like a fancy way of saying they’ll kill us,” I said. “Assuming you actually know what all those words mean.”

  “The Shadow Hunters will die,” said Rogomil, his eyes fixing upon me. “You, Katrina Stoker, you I am going to take alive…and I will take great pleasure in killing you as slowly as possible. Both for your crimes against the Revolution, and for how very much you have annoyed me.”

  “Big words,” I said, flexing my hand as I readied another spell. “Can you back them up?”

  “Easily,” said Rogomil, and he flung out his arms.

  Both Corvus and I attacked at the same moment, throwing globes of lightning at the Rebel leader. As we did, black flames erupted from him in all directions. The fire swallowed our spheres before they could reach Rogomil, and the storm of black fire rolled across the food court.

  “Get behind me!” shouted Nora, pushing me back, her eyes filling with darkness. Her Shadowmorph seemed to erupt from her skin, rising before her like a shield. I ducked behind one of the stone planters, and the vortex of black fire ripped forward a few feet in front of me. Across the food court I saw Corvus doing the same thing as Nora, his Shadowmorph rising from his arms to form a shield. Both Shadow Hunters were holding back the storm of black fire.

  But they seemed unable to do anything else. The effort of holding Rogomil’s dark magic back was taking all of their strength. Worse, the vortex of dark fire was expanding, advancing a few feet every few seconds. Soon I had to retreat as the fire washed over the planter, the stone crumbling, the plant withering to a lifeless, brittle stalk. I didn’t know how much longer the Shadow Hunters could resist the fury of Rogomil’s magic.

  And when they were dead, Rogomil was going to kill me. Or he would make me wish that he had killed me, at least until the nuclear bombs started falling.

  I summoned magic and flung another globe of lightning at Rogomil. It barely covered half the distance between us before the black fire unraveled the spell. Whatever dark magic he used protected him from spells, stealing away their power before they could touch him. Morvilind could have penetrated that defense. I certainly could not, not with my meager collection of spells, and my gun wouldn’t work on him, either.

  Nora screamed and fell to one knee, her arms trembling as she held them out. I could barely see her in the swirl of black fire. I couldn’t see Corvus at all, and I didn’t know if the dark magic had consumed him, or his Shadowmorph still stood strong against the attack.

  Another time, I admit, I might have considered abandoning the Shadow Hunters and running for my life. If I got killed, then Russell would die as well.

  Like I’ve said, I’m not a good person.

  Except there was no place to run. Even if I escaped the mall, got Russell, and ran, we would still die when the nukes went off. If I didn’t get the Cruciform Eye, Russell might be killed if the Archons and their orcs overran the Homeland Security officers holding the gate outside the Marneys’ house.

  So I had two choices. Either I could lie down and die with the only people I cared about in the world…or I could fight.

  Though damned if I knew how.

  Rogomil had to be at the limits of his strength. The vortex of dark fire must have taken up all of his power. Else he would have done something to me already, and he hated me enough to make my death a priority. He thought I wasn’t a threat at the moment. Unfortunately, he was right. My spells couldn’t touch him, and his magic protected him from bullets.

  Except…

  I blinked, fumbling in my coat.

  I didn’t have just one kind of bullet, did I?

  I took one of the clips of Shadowlands-forged bullets and slid it into my gun. Morvilind had explained to me once why bullets manufactured from the metals of Earth didn’t work on Elves. It had something to do with the Elves’ magical nature, their remaining link to their homeworld, and the explanation had been beyond my grasp of magical theory. It boiled down to the fact that bullets manufactured from the metals of Earth would not work on the Elves, but bullets made from the ore the Shadowlands would harm them.

  Would they work on a man wreathed in the magic of the Dark Ones?

  It was time to find out.

  The fire swirled closer to me, and I stepped back and to the left, making sure that Nora was out of my line of fire. I couldn’t see Rogomil through the snarling mass of lightless fire, but I did see the purple light that flared and danced around him. I took aim, clearing my mind with a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger. I expected to miss, or for the bullet to disintegrate a puff of smoke.

  I did not expect for the bullet to melt.

  It became a marble-sized sphere of molten metal, slowing enough that I could see it, but it still hit Rogomil at a good clip. All at once the dark firestorm flickered, and I saw Rogomil stumble with a scream. The melted bullet had burned a hole the size of my thumb into his left shoulder, and his shocked eyes met mine.

  I guess even the metal of the Shadowlands did not care for the Dark Ones.

  It was surprising, but I didn’t let surprise slow me down, and I kept squeezing the trigger, emptying the clip at Rogomil. I missed three times, but the other five shots hit him in the chest and stomach, and he fell backwards onto a rusted table, the weakened metal collapsing beneath his weight. As he did, the storm of black fire vanished, and I saw that both Nora and Corvus were still alive, though their faces were drawn with strain, their limbs trembling with fatigue.

  A strange, glassy calm came over me.

  I walked through the ruined food court, loading the second clip of Shadowlands bullets into my gun. Rogomil lay upon the broken table, some of the metal shards stabbing into his back. He was still alive, shivering as shock came over him. The only reason he hadn’t bled out was because the molten bullets had cauterized their wounds. Of course, I suspected that organ failure would soon kill him.

  “I…I surrender,” rasped Rogomil.

  “What?” I said.

  It was a flat, harsh sound. I didn’t recognize my own voice.

  “I surrender,” said Rogomil. “I renounce the Dark Ones. The…the Shadow Hunters have to take me, if I repent. I…”

  “Hey,” I said, smiling at him.

  I remembered all the pregnant women and little children I had seen in the mall. All the corpses lying outside the State Capitol in Madison.

  “Hey,” I said again. “Remember what you told me in Madison?” He stared at me in bewilderment. “How you’d kill ninety percent of the human population so the other ten percent could live free of the High Queen?”

  Rogomil’s mouth worked.

  “Sucks to be in the
ninety percent, doesn’t it?” I said.

  He started to shout something, but I pointed my gun at his head and squeezed the trigger until the gun clicked empty and he was dead. The bullets didn’t melt this time, so when my gun ran out of bullets there wasn’t much left of his head. Evidently having holes burned into your chest makes it hard to wield dark magic. I stared at his corpse, and then kicked it as hard as I could.

  That felt really good, so I did it again. And then one more time.

  I kind of lost count of the kicks for a minute or so after that.

  “Miss Moran.”

  I blinked and looked up, breathing hard, as Corvus stepped next to me. He looked tired and grim, the lines of his Shadowmorph twitching on his jaw, but otherwise unhurt.

  “We should take the Eye and depart,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said, looking at Sergei Rogomil. I considered him for a moment, then spat upon what remained of his head, and walked away without looking back.

  The Eye still rested upon its metal table, untouched by the maelstrom of dark magic that had washed through the food court. I hesitated, then picked the thing up. It was about as heavy as a bowling ball, and I needed both hands to lift it. The crystal flared once and went dark, turning a dull gray color, though the strange black pupil remained in the center of the sphere, and I could not shake the feeling that the Eye was watching me.

  If Morvilind wanted the damned thing, he could have it.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said.

  Chapter 12: Numbers

  After everything we had gone through to get that sphere, handing it over to Morvilind proved anticlimactic.

  He took one look at the Cruciform Eye, nodded his approval, and said that I had performed in a satisfactory manner. One of his mercenaries took the Eye, and Morvilind and the rest of his retainers climbed into the van and drove off, leaving me, Corvus, and Nora standing in the wreckage of the parking lot.

  “How rude,” said Nora. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”

  “The sooner I see the back of him, the better,” said Corvus. He had pushed my motorcycle out of the mall. It had taken a few scratches to the paint and some scorch marks on the chrome of the tailpipes, but it was otherwise intact. Given all the death and destruction that surrounded me, I suppose it didn’t speak well of me that I was relieved, but I was relieved nonetheless.