by HDA Roberts
"You're sure that's what the armour looked like?" he said, "With the pentagram?"
I nodded and concentrated; a psychic projection of the armour appeared in front of him, making him jump.
"Oh damn," he said, his eyes going wide, "Puritus."
"Puritus?" I asked.
"It's a group of radical mages and their supporters. The pentacle, it's their symbol. It's the same one we've been finding on all those assault victims in the papers," he explained, "that armour is- was famous. No Magician who's fought Purity's Paladin has ever, ever survived. And in case you hadn't guessed, they really don't like Shadowborn."
I gulped. If I'd known that going in, I would have made more of an effort to run for my life. I started shaking a little, feeling queasy.
"Easy, Graves, you won, don't worry about it."
I nodded my head and took some deep breaths.
Braak smiled sadly, patting my shoulder, "After all these battles, I sometimes forget that you're still a kid. Try not to spiral. Just breathe."
"Matty!" shouted a very welcome voice. I turned and Cathy dropped into my arms, Bill close behind, looking around at the mess I'd made. One of Braak's people had just dropped down from the roof with the psycho's sword in his hands, and another had bound the Paladin with plastic ties. He'd been about to use Spelleater manacles, but I pointed out that he wasn't a mage.
"Bloody hell, are you seeing this thing?" the S.C.A. Agent said, lifting up the sword, "Look at all the enchantments! I've never heard of anyone able to pack so much magic into one thing!"
"You should have seen the armour," I muttered as Cathy held me so tightly I was worried about my circulation, "Agent Braak, this is my girlfriend, Cathy, and that's Bill, another friend of mine."
"Charmed, I'm sure," Braak said with a snort as Cathy nuzzled her way onto my neck, shaking slightly through tears. I rubbed her back and told her it was alright while Bill sat down nearby.
"I sure hope their insurance was paid up," Bill said, looking around at the damage.
I coughed sheepishly.
"Ah, don't worry, Graves, we'll have that fixed up in a... well, not minute, you broke a lot of stuff, but an hour or two and it'll be fine. The support team will be on their way-"
Another portal opened, and Hopkins was through, the very air around her warping as her eyes blazed with fury. And with her, that's not a metaphor.
"Uh oh," Braak said, standing up and backing away slowly, "Best of luck, Mathew."
"Oh, thanks very much!" I said as Hopkins stomped towards me.
"Are you alright?" she asked, kneeling next to me, "I smell Flesh Magic."
"Broke my ankle, it's fine," I replied.
"You broke your ankle?" Cathy said, scrambling off my lap to look at my legs.
"Well, he did it," I said, gesturing over my shoulder at the comatose burn victim, who hadn't stirred so much as an inch.
"I'm gonna kick his teeth in!" Cathy said, getting up, a look of fury on her face. The S.C.A. Agents actually took a step away from the guy. My girl has a glare than can melt concrete when she's in a mood.
I took her hand, "Sit with me instead, alright?" I said soothingly, "I don't want him near you."
Our eyes met, and her expression softened. She sat next to me and leant her head on my shoulder, a gesture that Hopkins didn't miss the implications of.
"What the hell happened here?" Hopkins asked.
I explained, again, and her eyes narrowed, "Bastards!" she said, the force of her temper making the earth shake just a little, "I swear, I'm going to find those arrogant, prejudicial freaks, and I'm going to tear their intestines clean out!"
"Ma'am, with the greatest respect, you're frightening the locals," Braak said, gesturing at the small crowd of onlookers who'd come back with camera phones.
Hopkins growled low in her throat, but got her temper under control.
"And what were you three even doing here?" she asked.
"I told you, we were at the movies," I said, "We have passes."
We all got the little slips of paper signed by our housemasters out of pockets to show her. She glared, muttering.
"Come on then, I'll portal you back to school," she said.
"But the battle missed the ice cream truck, and it looks like the owner's coming ba-" Bill started and then stopped when Hopkins turned her eyes on him, "Never mind."
I stood and winced as I put weight on my partially healed ankle. It was much better though, the bone almost completely knit. Hopkins gestured and a portal opened.
"Wait, wait!" Braak said, "Could you release the coma hex, first? Otherwise we'll never wake him up."
"Sure," I said, limping over so I could dismantle the spell, "He's still under a sleeping hex, but he should wake up in another hour or so."
"Thanks, Graves, good work," he said, slapping my shoulder again, which nearly sent me over thanks to my ankle. Thankfully Bill propped me up.
Hopkins and Cathy both glared and Braak looked suitably apologetic before they could hit him.
"See you later," I said to him.
"Not too soon, please, whenever you turn up, there's so much paperwork," he complained, shaking my hand.
"And people say I'm an arse," I muttered, following Hopkins and my friends through the portal, followed by Braak's booming laugh.
We were back on Windward ground, near one of the rebuilt pavilions (an Earth Mage had knocked them down), and Hopkins closed the portal behind us.
"Mister Hedrin, Miss Campbell, would you give us a moment?" Hopkins said, looking at me.
They nodded and waved at me before leaving. Cathy smiled tightly.
Hopkins sat on a convenient bench and gestured for me to join her. I did so, finally allowing myself to relax.
"Mathew, do you know what that man was? Do you have any idea of what's going to happen when news of this gets out?"
"I was just defending myself."
"Against one of our legends. He hasn't been seen in hundreds of years, and he's never been beaten. That armour was supposed to be impregnable. It was made by an Archon, Matty."
"Which one? I'd like to have a loud word," I said lightly, but I was feeling sick again.
"A long dead one. That armour was made by one of the First Shadows, made to kill Black Magicians. He was the one who founded Puritus, as a means of stopping the spread of the Black. They haven't sent the Paladin since the Great Fire, it was that thing that started it."
"I don't think this was the same guy. He was human. If anything, I'd say he was just the armour's host. And when he got out of it, he was insane. I don't think it' very safe to use."
"I know all that. But that's not the problem, the problem is that when it reforms, it'll be even less safe. Every time it repairs itself, it gets a little less stable, a little harder to control."
"It reforms?!" I barked (alright, squeaked), "You mean I'll have to do that all over again?!"
"As long as the Paladin's Tomb remains intact, yes; and as long as there are willing hosts for the armour."
"Can't we just blow up the tomb?" I pleaded.
"Even if we knew where it was, we can't risk that. The armour is too valuable a tool against the Black."
"And just who is in control of this Tomb?"
"The same people it's always have been, Puritus. But they've gone underground since we left, and they still haven't come back into the fold."
I sighed and rubbed my eyes.
"These are the same ones going around carving their symbol into people's faces, right?"
"The same, something none of us are happy about, believe me," she said, her voice low and dangerous.
"How soon until it comes back?"
"Months at least, by which time I hope to have dealt with the larger issue."
"Hope so, I got lucky this time."
"Why the hell didn't you run?" she asked, turning to glare, "That thing was unbelievably dangerous to you, Matty!"
"I didn't know that at the time!" I complained, "All I knew was t
hat there was a madman in a suit of armour coming at me. It never occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to deal with it, which is the height of arrogance, now I think about it. I just saw someone who wasn't a Mage, and I figured that I could handle it."
"You were right, as it turns out, but don't do it again!"
"Yes, Miss Hopkins," I said levelly.
She rolled her eyes and squeezed my shoulder, "Dumb Shadowborn."
"As advertised," I replied with something resembling my usual smirk.
Chapter 5
Maybe Sunday would be a quieter day?
It sure started nicely.
I awoke with soft lips on mine, the pressure increasing until I was all the way awake and responsive, and Cathy lowered herself onto me. My hands found her back, running up her Sunday best jacket to her lovely face as she let out a tiny little happy sound before pulling back.
"Morning," she said with a warm smile.
"Morning," I replied, "Remember when you were terrified of being caught in here?"
"That was long before it became worth it," she said, kissing me again. She pulled the duvet off and slid under it with me, her head on my chest, restful and relaxed.
"Wish we didn't have Chapel," she said with a yawn, "We have ten hours before you have to go to that stupid party, and I don't want one of those wasted."
"I'll make it up to you when I get back," I said. I kissed the top of her head.
"Damn right you will," she said, moving gently against me.
Bill, Cathy and I spent the day doing our usual Sunday things, mostly game-related activities, apart from a few hours snatched here and there when Bill was occupied with one thing or another and Cathy and I adjourned to a quiet spot.
Time passed pleasantly, and I forgot all about semi-sentient suits of armour and organisations made up of fanatics. I secured a pass from Mister Harris, my house master, impressing upon him the importance of my evening. He was really a very understanding man, was Mister Harris.
I dressed, Cathy helped (or at least made the process far more enjoyable), and I kissed her goodnight before heading to the edge of the grounds. I was dressed in coat with tails, white shirt and tie with black trousers and highly polished shoes, all under a charcoal overcoat.
It was just after half-past eight, and the sun had gone down, leaving it dark. The sky was overcast, blocking out the moon, which was useful, as I planned to travel by magic that night. I didn't like to do that where someone could see it, especially these days, so that's why I'd walked to the edge of the school grounds. I pulled out my phone and brought up a map-app before wrapping myself in shadows and darting into the sky.
The invitation said nine, and I was there twenty minutes early, and that was with a small detour after getting lost (only twice, I was improving!). The Thorne mansion was in Stonbridge's Old Town, at the top of a small hill, surrounded by trees and elegant topiary. It was old and huge, brightly lit with soft music coming out of its windows. The gates were open, high and wrought iron, the property surrounded by a high stone wall that looked thick enough to repel a siege. Cars were coming through the gates, limousines mostly. It seems I wasn't the only one who was early.
I perched on the roof of a nearby house while I waited the time out, watching through my Mage Sight. There were a great many different creatures going to this thing. Vampires, Ghouls, Lycanthropes, Mages of course, and some other things I didn't recognise, stepped out of cars or simply appeared among the trees and headed towards the doors. Some of them looked very much like delicately boned people, but their auras were very different. I suspected they were Fairies.
Nine rolled around and I floated to the ground just outside the gates before walking up the gravel path to the heavy front door. I presented my invitation and was let through to a reception room, where I handed my overcoat to a cloakroom attendant.
I was the youngest person there that I could see and by quite some margin, as far as I could tell. The house wasn't packed, but there were still a great many people there, dozens in fact, upwards of two hundred, not counting the staff, who moved here and there, unobtrusively carrying trays of delicate finger food or glasses full of colourful liquids.
"Ah, Mister Graves, welcome," said Thorne, coming from my left, and extending his hand. I took it and we exchanged grips.
"Good evening, Sir," I said politely, "I'm grateful for the invitation, though naturally I was surprised, given our... opposition in the Conclave."
"Perhaps your speech changed my mind?" he suggested politely.
"Sir, I may be young, but I wasn't born yesterday."
He smiled sadly, I think there may even have been a hint of regret in those old eyes of his, "Of course," he said, smiling more openly now, the kind of smile you might see on a shark, "well, mingle, enjoy yourself. I've found that a small social occasion often helps to smooth over any rough edges."
"I'd like that, Sir," I said honestly, hoping for the best, but wondering if I shouldn't have asked Cassandra to come with me (with her sword).
He nodded and withdrew, and I started walking around the house, making my way from room to room. Nobody even looked at me, all were engrossed in their own conversations. Everyone was elegantly dressed. The men like myself, and the women in stunning evening gowns, every colour of the rainbow was represented. Jewellery glittered and glimmered, it was impressive to see so much wealth and power in one place. And there was me in my rented costume mixing among people I had no business with.
I found my way to a long gallery with stunning artwork on the walls, every piece intricate and expensive. My knowledge of art was minimal, to say the least, but I could appreciate when something was the work of a master.
I was enjoying the art when I felt an itch. Nothing I could scratch; it was on the edge of my perception, a presence. An intrusion. I cast a set of mental defences, looking around me, but I couldn't see where it was coming from, and suddenly it graduated from a moderate intrusion to a full-blown attack. I reinforced my defences, but without knowing where the attack was coming from, I couldn't retaliate.
Whoever he or she was, they were strong, and very good, I felt three distinct sets of probes smashing through my defences, each individually controlled, which is bloody hard. I threw a gout of power into the shields and took a moment to focus on the probes, feeling the energy behind them as they burrowed through my defences. It would take them a while, my shields are extensive and complex, and my opponent was too far away to press any advantage. In telepathy, distance favours the defender, as you have to project a psychic attack in order to proceed, and the greater the distance, the greater the concentration required, and the higher the power-requirement.
Which meant that as soon as I found him, this would get very ugly... for him.
There!
A male mind, a vampire, right in the middle of the crowd. Damn it, I couldn't take the fight to him physically, not with so many witnesses no doubt salivating at the idea of reporting that I started a fight. I'd have to do this on his terms, which might not be wise under normal circumstances. Vampires have innate telepathic skills, and the older they get, the stronger they get. This guy was old.
Thankfully, I'm no slouch in the telepathic department. I took the time to summon a set of shields to protect my body before launching my counter-attack, and a good thing too, because a dark blur bounced neatly off the outer layer and down the corridor, rolling over and over to a halt.
Not good. You can't fight a telepathic battle and a physical one at the same time, or at least I didn't have the concentration for that, not at this level. The vampire who'd run into me hefted himself up as I poured a torrent of energy into my mental shields, strengthening them massively and bringing the mental assault to a grinding halt. The physical attacker wore the same clothes as I, more or less. His eyes were red and staring, his mouth full of needle-like fangs as he darted towards me again.
I called my Will, already feeling my mental opponent rallying, reached out, and simply snapped the charging vampire
's neck. There was a wet crack, and the monster fell limply to the floor, his body shuddering slightly before going still. I wrapped him up in a cocoon of shadows, making it tight, before using one of the more advanced spells from the Shadow Codex to turn them solid and keep him in place. They'd remain physical objects now, and that took power, a lot of it; energy to matter conversion without ectoplasm is astonishingly draining, but it would free me up to fight the real battle, while this twit regenerated and tried to dig his way out of his trap.
I took a look to make sure I was fighting the right guy, and then I sent out my probe. I say probe, closer to a battering ram, really. I smashed into his mind, and I felt his psyche recoil as I burrowed straight through his defences like a hot knife through butter. He pulled back immediately to man his own defences, which looked like a simple projection of three massive walls, one inside another. I was already through the first two and was smashing a nice hole in the last and largest, when he pumped power into those shields.
Now I was faced with the disadvantage of the attacker, but the difference was that I am a Sorcerer, and not a jumped-up fruit-bat. I smashed through that last wall with what amounted to a minimum of effort, lancing into the spark that was his mind. It felt cold and slimy in there, the thoughts juddery and dusty. I didn't like it at all.
Good evening, I said, speaking directly into his active mind.
Brains are almost like computers. They have firewalls (Mental Shields), RAM (the active mind and background functions such as breathing and heartbeat), a processor (your basic intelligence in conjunction with your brain tissue), and a hard disk (memory). By breaking through the firewall, you can change what's in the target's brain like you would hack a computer, either in memory, or in active thought. That's a little simplified, but covers the basic principles at play.
Essentially, he was now my bitch.
Get out! the vampire replied.
Why were you trying to break into my head? That's rather rude.
I meant no harm, please don't hurt me!
You must realise that I can feel you lying. Tell me the truth and I'll leave you with most of your faculties intact.