Eve of Destruction

by C. E. Stalbaum

  Her crooked smile widened and she turned to Eve. “I like him. I can see why you keep him around.”

  Eve sighed. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to stop wallowing in self-pity and start looking for something we can use against Chaval,” Shaedra told her.

  “Aram believes Chaval wanted me to have this,” Eve reminded her, shaking the journal for emphasis. “If that’s true, he probably tore out anything remotely useful. There are significant gaps in the pages.”

  “So he wanted you to read your mother’s visions of your future, and nothing else. What does that tell you?”

  “It tells me,” Eve replied caustically, “that I really don’t want to talk about this with you.”

  “You heard her,” Zach said as he stood and walked over to the Vakari. “We had the door closed for a reason. There’s a whole empty room over there for you to skulk in.”

  Shaedra cocked an eyebrow. “I’m trying to help you. You aren’t prepared for what is to come.”

  “Oh, that’s rich,” Zach muttered.

  “You are the Avenshal, Evelyn,” Shaedra went on, “but I don’t think you even know what that means.”

  Eve glared at the other woman. “I know exactly what it means. And I still don’t care about the opinion of an…abomination like you.”

  Shaedra shook her head. “You have no idea. Absolutely none. That’s the real problem here—your mother should have been teaching you about it all along instead of pretending it wasn’t true. Her cowardice might have damned us all.”

  “Get out!” Eve snapped.

  “Do what she says,” Zach whispered coldly, hand dropping to his pistol.

  “The truth is painful, but it’s far more deadly when left unspoken,” Shaedra said. “Perhaps your mother taught you that old phrase when you were growing up, but like most cowards she didn’t put it into practice.”

  “Shut up!” Eve screamed, balling her hands into fists.

  Zach drew his pistol and took a step back. Shaedra continued to glare at Eve, her face impassive. Only when Zach cocked the gun did she turn.

  “Put your toy away,” she told him. “This isn’t about you and never was.”

  He flinched, and in that moment of hesitation, she struck. With supernatural speed she swept the gun from his grip and then backhanded him across the face. He flipped backwards onto the bed and bounced twice before tumbling off.

  “Zach!” Eve cried out as she lunged forward.

  She never made it to him. Suddenly she was flying backwards, an invisible wave of force flattening her against the wall. She impacted hard enough that the air left her lungs, and her vision momentarily blurred…

  “Show me what you have, little girl,” Shaedra taunted. She stood stiffly in the doorway, Fane energy crackling dangerously at her fingertips.

  Eve grit her teeth and opened her palms. She reached out to the Fane, and a dozen different spells swirled through her mind. Her hands exploded with orange-white flame—

  And then her mind abruptly caught up with what she was doing. Her spells wouldn’t hurt this woman, no more than bullets from Zach’s revolver. Shaedra could have killed him but hadn’t; she could have killed them both at almost any time. She wanted to antagonize them, but she wasn’t willing to actually hurt them.

  Eve let out a slow deep breath, and the rage boiling in her veins cooled. She released her hold on the Fane, and the magic in her palms vanished.

  “I can’t hurt you,” she said softly. “I’m not going to play your little game.”

  Behind the bed, Zach dragged himself to his feet. Other than his pride and a bloody lip, he seemed to be unhurt. Shaedra glanced between the two of them in disgust.

  “Hide from the truth if you want,” the Vakari said, “but it will just be more painful when you finally drag it into the light.”

  The invisible force pinning Eve to the wall released, and she dropped roughly to the floor. She shook her head and glared at the other woman. “You’re a monster.”

  Shaedra shrugged. “Yes, but this isn’t about me. You have to learn to control what you have before it controls you. Trust me, I know that better than anyone.”

  “I don’t need to control it because it’s not who I am,” Eve replied, folding her arms across her chest. “My mother was wrong.”

  “Lie to yourself if you want, but eventually the people you care about will pay the price.”

  The Vakari tilted towards Zach and opened her palm. Without warning he lurched forwards off the ground and flew straight towards her. She caught him by the throat and held him firmly even as he flailed in her grip. A wave of blue energy rippled across her hands and flashed across his body, and the cuts on his lip slowly closed. Eventually he stopped struggling and just scowled at her. She smiled back.

  “Loyal and handsome,” she murmured. “Definitely a good choice.”

  “Put him down,” Eve ordered.

  Shaedra grunted and callously dropped him to the floor. She spun on a heel and grabbed the door handle, then glanced back over her shoulder.

  “Just remember that with me you can practice safely. Out there you can’t.”

  She held her gaze for a moment longer before shutting the door. Eve stared vacantly at the doorway as Zach pulled himself to his feet. He rubbed at his neck.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, gently putting her hand on his arm.

  “I’m fine,” he replied, shaking out of her grip. For a moment she thought he might have been too emasculated to think clearly, but then she saw a glimmer in his eye. “I can’t believe she goaded me that easily. I should know better.”

  She smiled. “You were just trying to protect me.”

  “For all the good it would do,” he muttered, turning to face her. “That was some impressive restraint on your part. I thought you were going to explode there.”

  “I…” she stopped, an odd tingling sensation rippling up and down her spine. What had she planned on doing there? She glanced down at her palms and imagined the fire that had just been roaring within them…

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know that spell,” she breathed. “It was one I glanced at in Maltus’s spellbook, but I don’t understand it nearly enough to actually weave it.”

  He frowned. “Well, I’m no mage, but it seemed like you knew what you were doing.”

  Eve swallowed heavily. She had known what she was doing, and that was the problem. Even now she couldn’t call the spell back to mind; all the formulae blurred together in an incomprehensible jumble. She couldn’t repeat what she had done less than a minute ago…

  “Look, don’t let her get to you,” Zach said after a moment, rubbing soothingly at her shoulder. “She’s a sick, twisted bitch and we’re better off without her. I don’t care if Maltus sent her or not, I sure as Shakissa don’t trust her. I’m not sure I trust anyone.”

  Eve pried her gaze away from her palms and looked up at him. “I trust you.”

  He met her eyes for a long moment and then smiled sheepishly. “Why don’t we take a break from reading for a while? Lunch is getting cold. We could play some cards if you wanted. I learned some fun games overseas I could teach you. They’re better with booze, but…”

  She nodded and did her best to hide the fact her hands were shaking. “Sure, why not?”

  ***

  “Mr. Danev already paid you for this information, and he doesn’t like it when his employees back out of their agreements.”

  Karver Venn laughed. He was overweight and overconfident, and he swelled with the typical inflated courage of a man who lived a few hundred kilometers from his boss. He propped his feet up on the chair next to him, and the two burly guards flanking him on either side joined in his mirth.

  “Mr. Danev has no influence here,” the fat man replied after a long moment. “And the way I see it, he isn’t going to be around much longer, anyway.”

  “Is that so?” Danev asked coolly.

  “The Dusties aren’t so f
ond of him. He’ll be buried by the end of the year, I’d wager, along with all his screlling magi friends.”

  Danev did his best to keep the bitter amusement off his face. Venn had been one of his more reliable informants in Cadotheia over the past few years, but apparently he’d rather abruptly lost interest in maintaining that relationship. It was part of a disconcerting pattern Danev had already seen repeated many times over—as the Dusties grew in power, the willingness of his contacts to discreetly pass him information was waning.

  Part of it was simply the nature of the beast: people invariably moved on with their lives, found new allegiances, and so on. Danev was not a mafia boss or criminal overlord, and as such didn’t often feel the need to discipline his people if they broke rank; he instead preferred to incentivize them to stay on.

  But in this case, he’d already paid Venn a thousand drakes for this information, and the man had chosen to bail on him before delivering it. That required a response. Fortunately, since he’d never actually met Venn in person before, the kreel had no idea who he was really talking to…

  “I’m not really interested in your predictions about the future,” Danev said coldly. “What I want is the information Mr. Danev has paid for.”

  Venn’s smile faded. “Look, vassa: go back to your boss and tell him I’m out. Poking around the Dusties is dangerous these days.”

  “More dangerous than crossing a mage?”

  Venn laughed. “Parlor tricks don’t scare me.” He nodded to his men, and they each drew a revolver from inside their coats. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about getting out of here in one piece than bringing your boss back a few drakes.”

  Danev leaned across the table and let his eyes narrow dangerously. “I’m just trying to make this easy on you. I realize your operation here is…brimming,” he sneered, tossing a derisive glance at the dirt floors and dust-covered furniture inside this basement, “but you have to remember that you still have a lot to lose.”

  “You’re not in a position to threaten anyone,” Venn said. “I’m surprised Danev was stupid enough to send you alone. I suggest you leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Danev told him. “Not before I get what I came for.”

  Venn’s smile faded. “Fine. Shoot him.”

  Each of the thugs fired once as Venn smugly leaned back in his chair. It took the fat man almost a full second to realize that Danev hadn’t even flinched. The bullets had gone straight through him and lodged into the back of the chair.

  “What?” Venn stammered.

  “As I warned you before,” Danev replied, “the Dusties are the least of your problems.”

  From his actual position leaning against the western wall, Danev released his hold on the illusion he’d woven over the room. The false projection of himself in the chair vanished, and the elongated shadows that had concealed he and Aram in the corner faded. It took Venn and his guards almost a full five seconds to realize that their target wasn’t where they thought he was. It was slow enough that even an overweight and out-of-shape man like Danev would have had plenty of time to leap on them.

  For an Eclipsean, it was nearly an eternity.

  To say the pair of guards never had a chance was probably giving them too much credit. Aram moved in a blur of feet and fists, and within an instant the closest thug was flying head-over-heels across the room. The second actually managed to open his mouth in shock before Aram delivered an elbow to the chin, shattering his jaw with a thundering crack, and then kick him hard enough in the chest to hurl him all the way into the opposite wall.

  Venn himself never actually made it out of his chair. He spun around, eyes agape in horror, and then raised his hands above his head at the human wrecking ball now glaring straight at him.

  “Now,” Danev said nonchalantly as he stepped into the light and twirled his cane, “perhaps we can continue our conversation.”

  Venn glanced frantically between them before his eyes locked on Danev and his mouth fell open in recognition. “You’re…”

  “A bit upset with my employee,” Danev finished for him. “I always thought we had a very profitable relationship with one another.”

  “Don’t kill me,” Venn pleaded, his eyes now latched on the Eclipsean looming over him. “I’ll get you the drakes.”

  Danev sighed and rubbed at his arms. Maintaining even a simple illusion over an area this wide was taxing, but what he had just done—a full audio and visual displacement and distortion—was enough that the Flensing had already taken its first bite. It was almost a blessing that Venn had ended the conversation so soon; Danev probably wouldn’t have been able to hold it together much longer.

  Still, he’d often found that the added dramatic flair was worth a bit of discomfort. Venn would talk, and word would hopefully spread to Danev’s other contacts throughout the region that he wasn’t to be cheated.

  “Drakes are good,” Danev said after a few moments of uneasy silence, “but information is even better. I suggest you tell me what I paid you for in the first place…unless you want to see another demonstration of Crimson Eclipse training.”

  Venn swallowed. A minute ago his tan, soot-stained face had almost been difficult to make out in the dim lightning, but now it was as white as a Kelpek winter.

  “Fine,” he stuttered. “Fine, I’ll tell you what you want. Chaval isn’t sitting back and waiting for things to happen. He’s made a lot of powerful friends in the last few months, especially in the army.”

  Danev nodded. “And how is he paying them?”

  “Mostly through promises of military production contracts,” Venn explained. “He’s selling them a huge amount of weapons and now these Zefrim airships. I heard they can drop dynamite from the sky and burn whole cities.”

  “I see. And what else?”

  “I have records,” he said, fumbling through a collection of transcribed cables and other documents he had lying scattered about the room. Venn might have been a disorganized kreel, but judging by the raw size of the collection, he was still good at what he did.

  “The bottom line is he expects to fight a war, and soon,” the man added.

  “My question is whether he plans to initiate one.”

  Venn nodded. “He doesn’t trust the magi or the Enclave. And if they don’t act, he plans to give them a demonstration.”

  Danev frowned. He would have to personally review the cables later, but assuming the information was correct…

  Well, the news wasn’t exactly unexpected, but that didn’t make the prospect of civil war less harrowing. He wondered idly if Eve or Tara was mentioned in any of the documents here.

  Venn licked at his lips. He was still staring at Aram like he fully expected the man to pounce at any moment.

  “There’s something else,” Venn murmured, “it’s in some of those cable transcripts near the back. Chaval’s been assembling a lot of magi behind-the-scenes, almost exclusively those with combat training.”

  Danev frowned. “Curious considering the damage that could do to his image. He hasn’t toned down his inflammatory rhetoric against magi in the slightest.”

  “I’m not sure he intends to make them fight.”

  “Protection from Enclave assassins, then?”

  Venn shrugged. “Maybe, but I suspect it’s something else. He’s been moving more and more of his operations out of the city. It’s been a gradual process going back almost a year, but the last few months it has really picked up. Even now the majority of his serious production has been moved outside the city limits. It’s not something you’d notice just looking around—the factories here are still cranking out this stuff left and right.”

  “Odd,” Danev murmured. Now he really wanted to look these documents over, and that meant getting back to their hotel. It probably wasn’t a bad idea, anyway. Leaving Shaedra with Eve and Zach for an extended period was probably not in anyone’s best interests.

  “That’s it,” Venn insiste
d. “That’s all I know.”

  “For your sake, I hope you’re telling me the truth,” Danev said, allowing his voice to cool a few degrees. “I’ll be in town for a few more days and I might need to contact you again for…clarification. If I don’t, consider yourself a free man.”

  Venn winced. “Yeah. Sure.”

  Two minutes later, Danev and Aram were standing out on the Cadeotheian streets once again. Dusk had already fallen; it’d been a long and harrowing day drudging up anything they could get from old contacts that were becoming increasingly unreliable. From the moment their meeting with Jack Polard hadn’t gone the way they’d hoped, Danev knew they probably wouldn’t find many answers here.

  But at least they still had Tara’s journal. Assuming Simon hadn’t torn out everything of value.

  “I can’t think of many reasons Chaval would be pulling out of the city this early,” Aram said softly after they hopped into a carriage and set off towards the hotel.

  “No,” Danev agreed. “The only thing that comes to mind is that he’s expecting a serious reprisal from the Enclave.”

  “You mean attacking the city directly?” Aram asked. “You’re not jaded enough to believe that, I hope.”

  Danev shook his head. “No. For all their faults, I can’t see the Magister’s Council doing anything so rash. That would just give the Dusties even more ammunition to rally the people against them.”

  “Perhaps he plans to do something himself. He certainly has the weaponry for it.”

  “I don’t see what that would get him,” Danev said. “Why attack your own people? Why cripple your own power base? Simon may be ambitious, but he’s not insane.”

  “It’s not insanity if the public believes your enemy did it.”

  Danev frowned as he remembered an old conversation the two of them had shared a few months ago. “Back to your old theory, then?”

  Aram shrugged. “It’s still never been disproven. Kalavan was a boon to the Industrialists, there’s no way around it. Chaval had the most to gain by destroying it.”