After quickly getting dressed she’d followed him through the Fortress. Only the tips of the suns were visible and the moon had not yet retreated, its blue light throwing Arantay in an ethereal glow. If Brooke had never seen him before she would’ve assumed he was a ghost, haunting the Fortress.
“I thought you were done being a Venator?” She asked at length, to break the uncomfortable silence between them.
“Vanderain insisted I return to missions,” Tay replied in clipped tones. “Vanderain has looked after me for years, ever since I was first…turned. I can’t let him down, regardless of my personal issues.”
A few minutes later and they were out in the cold morning air, heading for the training courtyard.
They didn’t speak again until they got there.
Master Urkzal was already up and on the courtyard, speaking with the tribal warrior Casselle.
“Venators,” the orc rumbled as they approached. “Taretta tells me you have quite the mission ahead. We’ve got just the thing for werewolves.”
Urkzal’s thick grey lips turned up in what was evidently supposed to be a smile. He rifled through the cloth sack in his hands, before pulling out two bottles.
“This is a wolfsbane gel. Once coated on your weapons they’ll work as a spell. Very effective against lycan’s, as you well know, Arantay.” Urkzal rumbled appreciatively.
“And these,” said Casselle, passing them a weapon each.
They were daggers that glowed every few seconds with rippling white fire. Brooke almost dropped hers when it glowed, but then realised the fire didn’t harm her.
“Those are enchanted with whitefire,” Casselle said, “the closest thing to sunlight. Just in case a few vamps get in your way.”
“You’ve got a pouch of Harmona powder and a Twilight compass in there too,” said Urkzal. “I take it you know how to use them?”
Arantay nodded, but Brooke hadn’t heard about either of these items. She remembered that Master Arnvar had told their class about certain types of magical powders once, but she’d been arguing with Evan at the time. Evan had been trying to convince her Conan the barbarian would crush James Bond in a fight, but she’d been adamant 007 would win any day. Rueda, I need to start listening in training more.
“Thanks,” Arantay grunted. “This will help things.”
“We thought they would,” said Urkzal. He picked up a second cloth bad at his feet and handed it to Arantay. “We’ve put some other items you may need in there too. You’re equipped to deal with any Moonlight Race who tries to mess with a Venator. And, of course, you’ll need this,” Urkzal said, handing her a pistol. “Full of silver bullets. A classic, but it still works. Those bullets will slow the brute down significantly, but won’t kill it outright, unless you can manage to put a hole through its brain or heart.”
“Thank you.” Brooke smiled uncertainly at the Instructors as Arantay led her away. “Where are we going now?”
“To the mission chamber, everything else we need will already be there.”
Intrigue sliced through Brooke’s nervousness at this point. Everyone always talked about the mission room, but no Venator was allowed in until their first mission.
They entered the Master’s Citadel, its interior as grand and ghostly as ever. The portraits of other realms, that were dotted around the Fortress, became more frequent the closer they got to the mission chamber. The walls were covered in a collage of beautiful and abhorrent dimensions by the time they reached the chamber itself, stopping outside a large circular stone door.
“You need magic to enter,” said Arantay. “Place your hand in the slot and perform a small spell.”
Brooke followed his instruction, putting her own hand in the hand-shape carved into the door. She focused, summoning a tiny energy spell. After a flash of blue light around her hand, the door slowly moved aside. Ahead was a narrow corridor, and a second door, this one set with a camera screen.
As Arantay stood in front of the camera it bleeped and flashed red. Once it had identified Arantay the camera beeped again and the door slid open. Brooke couldn’t help but to stare in wonderment when she got past the defences and entered the chamber itself.
Giant archways of ebony stone lined the gargantuan chamber like bookshelves. Rows upon rows stretched for miles around, so much so that she couldn’t see where they ended. Brooke realised this chamber was not proportional to the castle outside; the mission room was so big it could have housed the whole Master castle inside it, with room to spare.
In each archway she could see the space where the portals were summoned. She knew from Archives class that each archway led to a particular world. Every archway had a number etched into its pillar and a picture of the realm it was the gateway to.
One archway’s portrait depicted a pink desert, beneath a sky full of moons instead of stars. Another archway showed an immense city, where winged men and woman flew between the towers. Wherever she looked she snatched a glimpse of where each archway led to, from subterranean caves filled with green and grey skinned goblins, vast oceans housing multiple headed sharks, and even what looked to be a futuristic city with thousands of robots. As Brooke looked around she wracked her brain to remember all that she’d been taught about the portals. They were opened from this side, and only summoned when Venators left Veneseron or were returning, to prevent intruders. When on missions they would have to use Holophones to let Veneseron know when to activate the portal.
If a portal was to suddenly appear in any of the archways, the mission controllers would shut it down before it opened fully. Gettelung had informed her class that Veneseron itself was enchanted so no portals could be created anywhere but this chamber. On rare occasions they deactivated the enchantment for new recruits to arrive in Veneseron forest, which was the way she’d arrived here herself. The enchantment being down was also how Kurrlan’s army had invaded, as well as Falawn de-activating Veneseron’s demon sensors.
Master Salamand hurried over to them. “Ah, Taretta said to expect you, follow me.”
Salamand headed to the centre of the chamber, where dozens of cubicles stood. Each cubicle was manned by a mission monitor. Brooke had heard about them, how many who lived in Veneseron city worked as monitors. She was humorously reminded of a call centre back on Earth, as each mission monitor had a Holophone to receive calls from Venators who needed aid. The monitors were made up of elves, gnomes and other city races. They wore clothes similar to her own uniform, except the colour was grey.
“Now,” said Salamand. “I trust Gettelung taught you all about Holophones on missions.”
“Our Holophones have a direct line to the mission monitors,” she nodded, taking the Holophone Salamand passed her.
It resembled a cell phone from Earth, except it was oval-shaped and had several coloured buttons, instead of numbers. The largest button, the green one in the centre of the phone, was the button they just had to press once to contact Veneseron. The Holophones could also be used for Venators to communicate with each other via holograms rising out of the screen, but Brooke hadn’t tried that yet, and Holophones could also be used like normal phones.
“We’re just a portal jump away if you find yourself in a situation you can’t escape from,” said Salamand, “or if you lose your Rambrace and have no way of getting back.”
“What if we lose our Rambrace and our Holophones?” she asked.
Salamand smiled wryly. “We check up on you periodically. If there’s no answer to our call, we send out a search party. Do not fear, we have you traced here.” He gestured to the digital maps on the computer screens. “We have maps for all the realms so we can keep an eye on you.”
She craned her neck to see into a few of cubicles and saw indeed that the computers had digital maps. Little red dots flashed in certain areas, signalling the Venators currently on missions.
“There are ways of masking our dots though,” Arantay muttered. “Rakarn have fooled you before.”
“Yes, well, when sorcery
and travel between multiple worlds are concerned, there’s a lot to prepare for,” said Salamand. “If the worst comes to worse, there’s always Vanderain. He has ways to track down anyone, anywhere.”
The buzzing of a hundred conversations reverberated around the cubicle bloc. Brooke heard snatches of their calls. “Okay Ms. Mensah, just ensure you and your companions catch the bandits before they attack the satyr settlement.”
“No problem Mr Paelic, let us know if you need any assistance boarding the Iserhian starship when the time comes.”
“Right away sir!” One monitor suddenly stood up, calling out, “we need reinforcements on Lykorian realm. The battle has turned in the troll army’s favour. Our Venators need reinforcements to help get the dwarf army to safety.”
At his words one of the monitors stationed in the front line hurried from his desk and to the tannoy on the wall.
He hit the button and spoke into it. “Several Mid-Realmers or above who are skilled in creating magical shields. Please report to the portal chamber at once, help required.”
Brooke had been told how it all worked, but it was fascinating seeing it in action. She never fully realised how Veneseron had to have dozens of Realmers in a myriad of realms at all times.
She turned to see Salamand rifling through draws. She’d failed to notice that the walls were set with vast storage places, embedded in the stone itself.
He pulled out a Rambrace and two sets of Venator armour.
“Here,” Salamand passed her a set. “As you’re travelling to Earth you will wear normal clothes over your armour. You can change in one of the storage rooms.” He indicated one of the larger storage spaces.
She’d donned the enchanted armour a few times in weapon training, but was still surprised at how incredibly comfortable it was despite the fact it was near-indestructible. Only other enchanted items and really powerful magic could damage it. Some of her fear slid away now that she knew she was well protected. The red armour was skin tight as it melded to the body, so she was self-conscious as she re-emerged.
Arantay was already dressed, the armour was flawless on him, the colour an even darker crimson than his usual Arch-Realmer tunic.
“So what clothes do we wear over the top?” She asked. “So we don’t get stared at like freaks when we get there.”
“There’s a dressing room through here,” Salamander called out, opening a black door partway down the room. “It’s been stocked especially. The clothes Venators have to wear change depending on the location of your mission.”
She entered the room, which was filled with racks of Earth clothing, clothes she
hadn’t seen or worn since coming to Veneseron.
“Pick something warm,” Arantay said, “we’ll be hunting at night remember.”
Brooke quickly slipped on a pair of light blue jeans and a snug black sweater over her Venator armour.
Arantay hurriedly dressed in baggy jeans, black top and leather jacket, looking like a lost runway model.
Now the only inch of their armour on display was their hands and feet, which they could easily pass of as red leather boots and gloves.
“What about your hair and eyes?” Brooke asked.
“I’ll draw a few stares,” said Arantay. “I always do. But people will just think I’m some punk teenager with a penchant for wearing white make up and red contact lenses.”
Brooke knew he’d receive more than a few stares. She remembered clearly the moment she’d first seen him. Back then he’d been on a mission to collect her.
“All ready then?” said Salamand as they returned. “Right, follow me.” Salamand walked down the endless line of archways.
Brooke’s nerves began to resurface and build, stronger than ever.
“Okay, this is the one. Make sure you keep in contact with our mission monitors every few hours. Just in case. Good luck and farewell.”
Salamand pulled out a Rambrace and activated Earth’s archway. A swirling blue portal bloomed inside the arch, showing hints of London deep in its depths.
“See you on the other side,” Arantay muttered as he stepped into the violent tempest. A single flicker and he was gone.
She took a deep breath to steady herself, then leapt into oblivion. Her vision was blinded by bright lights as she was sucked into the vortex, passing from one world into another in seconds. Her stomach flipped repeatedly, until her feet hit solid ground again and she stumbled to the ground.
Arantay was already there, but on his feet. He helped her up wordlessly, a trace of indignation showing on his face. The portal diminished with a ripple, seconds after it spat them out.
Brooke took a few moments to recover. Seconds ago she’d been within the Fortress walls, and now she was in the middle of a London back alley.
In training Gettelung explained that they always picked portal locations where it would be unlikely for anyone to see them. The alleyway inevitably reminded her of the alley Arantay, Lok and Tyrell had used when they had first taken her from Earth. It felt surreal to be back.
“What now? I mean do we start looking for the werewolf right away?” She was dreading the prospect.
“Not tonight. It was just before dawn in Veneseron, so the sun will be up soon here as well. The rogue won’t be out during the day. We’ll use the time to get acclimated and to track down Phosian.”
“I thought werewolves needing the moon to change was a myth?” she asked. “Why wouldn’t the rogue be out during the day, considering he’s insane and all?”
“True, lycan’s can shift whenever they want.” Arantay said, “But they’re far weaker during the day, as am I. The days are far noisier too, and werewolves loathe loud sound. London traffic would be this wolf’s idea of hell.”
“Okay, makes sense. But where will we sleep?” she asked as they emerged from the alley. The street beyond was empty, with only a few street lamps lighting the pavements. The sky had started to turn a lighter shade of blue and early-morning mist made the streetlamps orange blurs.
“A hotel,” said Arantay.
“Can you enter a hotel, what with your… well what you are?”
His replying laugh sent warm shivers down her spine. “Only sunlight makes me appear inhuman. I’m not affected by the vampire’s inability to enter residences without an invitation.”
Arantay’s flash of humour came unexpected. She was tempted to start asking the questions that’d been burning inside her since she fist saw him in Taretta’s quarters, but there was a high chance he’d turn taciturn again.
To her surprise, he pulled out several British banknotes from the cloth sack Urkzal had given them.
“Is this enough gold to stay at a hotel for a few nights?”
“I think so, I used to use dollars, but that looks about right. By the way it’s just called money here, not gold.”
“Right,” he nodded.
As they walked through the streets Brooke vaguely remembered the surroundings from the two weeks she’d spent here on holiday. They must’ve portalled directly into central London. Sure enough, they soon saw the millennium bridge, the River Thames moving ominously beneath it. Its dark grey waters reflected back the sparse moonlight in the sky.
“Are there any vampires or werewolves around now?” She asked, instinctively looking around at the late night stragglers heading home. All of them appeared human, not about to explode into huge hairy wolfmen, but she had to be ready for anything.
“Werewolves no. I’d be able to smell them.” A note of disapproval crept into his voice. “Vampires, maybe, they are able to mask their scent.”
Brooke’s pulse quickened.
“Don’t worry. I doubt they’d want anything to do with us.”
Before she’d become a Venator, the notion of vampires and werewolves living in London would’ve been crazy. However, it was probably better to be facing one insane werewolf than a horde of grotesque demons, wasn’t it?
Once they’d crossed the bridge, they passed the Tate modern and del
ved further into the city of London.
“Which hotel are we going to? Do you even know where any are?”
“The one in Seelie Square,” he grunted, only confusing her further.
“Uh, I don’t know London well, but I don’t think that’s a place.”
“You wouldn’t have been there. It’s in old London, the secret streets they call it, where all magic-users and supernatural races meet at the Midnight Market.”
“Are you serious?”
“You’ll see.”
They didn’t speak again until they were deep in a maze of shadowy passageways. Brooke had no idea where they were going, but Arantay seemed to know the way.
“Why didn’t we portal directly into this Seelie Square?”
“We aren’t allowed,” he said. “Venators aren’t the most popular magical folk around here.”
“What! But aren’t most of our missions saving the people of Earth from demons or other monsters?”
“Yes. Unfortunately in our history we Venators have imprisoned or destroyed many of Earth’s supernatural creatures. Obviously, we’ve only tracked down those who don’t live in peace with humans. But some people, mainly the Moonlight Races, are paranoid that we’re out to get them. Others just like to break the rules and don’t want Venators around to catch them.”
“That’s unfair on Venators though,” she thought aloud.
Arantay shrugged. “Well, in the case of the Moonlight Races, they hate everyone who isn’t them. They hate each other more than they do us, if that’s any comfort?”
“Not really.”
The maze of narrow passages receded and they emerged onto an empty city square.
“Right, I don’t have magic. So let’s hope Urkzal packed it.”
Brooke frowned as Tay rummaged through his bag. “Ah, he did.”
He pulled out a bottle of amber liquid and proceeded to squeeze a drop of it in each eye.
Moonlight War- Act I (The Realmers Book 2) Page 18