by Phillip Shaw
Markus had reservations about Schultz; the head of European operations here in Cologne shared a bit too much in common with his country's most infamous adept. He was ambitious, calculating and efficient. Worst of all to Markus he had a superiority complex that made Thomas Blain seem like a worker drone. Schultz wasn't what had stopped the chatter, though; it was the female accompanying him.
Markus studied the small form, just over five foot, size eight but lean with the body of a gymnast, blond hair cut in a short bob, she was wearing what looked like a military jumpsuit beneath her black trench coat. As he glanced towards her boyish face he stopped at the eyes. If he hadn't known better he would swear she was an adept. Impossible, adepts are forbidden to know what goes on in here. He grumbled, a quick scan around the room told him that his peers were thinking the same thing.
Schultz gathered them to the massive black marble table in the room. Underneath the table the triangle sign was woven into the carpet, Markus took his seat near the end furthest away. The other leaders jostled for position nearer the top, Miller most of all; just because he was in direct contact with Blain he thought he was enlightened. Bastard just because he is a Magister doesn't mean I have to like him. This feeling was not just shared by Markus all around the table long held grudges manifested themselves as snide comments and murderous looks until Schultz called them to order.
‘Ladies and gentlemen' he began in English. ‘The day we have been waiting for has come. By now you will have seen the events in Burma. The slow sinking of the temples has revealed the battleground. That can mean only one thing, Arbitan has been reborn. He is loose in this world and we must show that the world is ready for him to defend. The histories say that he will seek out the strongest of his followers to build his force and we....' Miller interrupted, ‘Blain, he will seek out Blain, I will call him now, he has wanted to be of more help to us for years.' Around the table there was silence. Markus thought it over then spoke, ‘Miller sit down you idiot'.' Five small words may as well have been five shots with his Luger. Miller visibly stunned looked like he was going to bounce over the table at him until Schultz regained control. ‘Thank you, Markus. Now as I was saying, he will seek them out, this means we need to heighten our security around the adept. If Arbitan is loose in the world then our enemies' leader will be as well. If we can find him and deliver him to Arbitan we can end this. We don't need a seventh event.'
Markus sat up at that The seventh event. The moment when the path of the world was decided, the winning side were able to shape it how they liked. Or so the histories said. There had been six mentioned events before. Each time Arbitan had prevailed, the world had survived. Part of Markus wondered if this was just a fabricated prophecy set up to perpetuate the control the adept had in this world. It looked like Markus was unlucky enough to be born in the wrong age. It was said that when the world began rebelling against the accepted order of things the champions would be reborn. Markus had read the history, he had been to the vault deep under where they were sitting and seen them first-hand. It still didn't prepare him for someone actually mentioning it; he wished he had a bigger glass.
Sulién was next to speak up. ‘Are there any leads? Have any of our adept reported contact with him or an increase in denouncers?' Shultz shook his head. ‘Nothing yet, that is why we are here, we are going to seek him out, introduce ourselves.' More gasps around the room, Markus struggled to take all this in, his society dedicated for centuries to maintaining the order of things were going to go directly to Arbitan? He spoke up, ‘This man, if he has been reborn a man, is a demi-god what is he going to do if one of us stroll up to him and say we are a society established out of an ancient memory of him?' Schultz looked down to the end of the table, ‘He will be grateful to us, we have run this world and positioned his army, he will view us as allies on a par with his adept.' Markus stood and smashed the glass on the table, ‘For all we know he could melt us with lightning bolts, he could be about to implode whatever part of the world he is in with a nuke from his arse!' Sulién nodded over, ‘A bit rough but what Markus says is true, there are people in this room and higher in our order who thought this Arbitan could have been a myth, now you tell us he walks among us and we are meant to just go up and say bonjour.'
The arguing in the room reached a crescendo with members from the other European regions saying their piece before Schultz asserted himself again. ‘What else would you have us do? Our methods of controlling adept and positioning them have worked for centuries, Arbitan may have needed to do that himself. Now we have delivered him the world. Deliver him the leader of the enemy and we could end up demigods ourselves. Find him first and we can bring him here, show him how we have placed his kind in the world.'
Miller stood, ‘Blain must be informed, I cannot believe you are considering this without taking counsel from him, I'm leaving and you should expect to hear from him shortly. How you think you can find any of these gods and cajole them betrays your arrogance, I suppose you are going to be leading the search yourself from your ivory tower.' Markus laughed at that, sometimes being a bastard was useful. The meeting was going to be ended abruptly he wished he hadn't smashed his drink.
‘I'm not going to lead the search, Markus is.'
Shit
‘Markus will lead a small team to seek out any leads that will identify either Arbitan or the enemy, the strongest adept in his region was eliminated years ago, the rest of us have valuable people to protect' said Schultz.
Miller sat down, everyone stared at Markus Sten, then back to Schultz, ‘He won't be alone either Ava will be with him. Ava? Step forward.' Markus stared mouth open as the small girl that had stood statue like walked towards him. She held out her hand, ‘I look forward to working with you Magister Sten' she said in an authoritative tone. Markus stood, he was being stitched up for this, he didn't need to lead a wild goose chase around the world after a myth with a teenage girl as his partner. ‘You are out of your mind, how am I going to find them, why would I even try, if they have been reborn this earth may turn into a battlefield before we know it. While you're at it humour me as to what use a tiny girl is going to be against a god. She isn't even old enough to have training in adepts.'
Schultz smiled, ‘My dear Markus, your early training and scores set records held for years, we wondered if you were an adept yourself. Ava has bested all those records except one; she has had no training for the mind. You could say she doesn't need it.' The words hung in the air, Markus' mind, his greatest tool clicked into gear, ‘she's an adept isn't she?' Ava just smiled the room went cold. That answered the question. Miller looked like he was about to go for his gun when the receptionist opened the door. ‘Magister Schultz, there's been an incident in Texas.'
10. Cleaner
Arbitan felt it, small but unmistakable and most of all a surprise. One of his followers had been removed. His seemingly endless stream of information was one fibre less. It matters not he thought. But still he was angered, he had not expected to awaken and feel the loss of power so soon. In the past, he had not felt his power diminish until the battlefield had been joined. He knew what this meant, Libero was awake. He could not let him weaken him any further; I must make contact with my generals.
Arbitan looked at the bodies on the floor, almost dismembered to the point where they were not identifiable and smiled. He never failed to be amazed at the technological advances in the world that manifested themselves because of his victories. The last battle he was needed for had been fought with blades and warriors, this world seemed to do its battling with technology, he had thought the wrench used to destroy Stan was a weapon but his mind said tool, create. Arbitan longed to walk out of the garage and begin his search but he had to take in some of the information that flooded his brain, every piece coming through the senses of the body was throwing up the knowledge of those under his influence. He glanced down at the bloody footprints and the killing ground in front of him. His mind said in this age he could be discovered. He knew that by
leaving these weak carcasses in the open he could be found, a small trace of his being could be discovered on the body of one of them, DNA it was called and the warmongers of the world could find him. He had no desire to subjugate all before him before it was necessary.
Arbitan glanced across the room until he saw a flat heavy metal object, laptop, internet, portal, knowledge the words flowed into his mind. He opened it and saw a strange collection of symbols, in seconds they revealed themselves as the dominant language of the age. He saw an arrowhead on screen and clicked the word that had flashed in his mind most, The Internet. He could see it all; these are the scriptures, the records of this world. He stopped almost in fear, the normal people in this age had almost the same information as he had, his advantage over them was not as absolute as before, they wouldn't be able to instantly feel the knowledge but they had access to an almost limitless store of knowledge.
He would need to delve deeper into this. He stopped, the image of a man appeared on screen, a tennis player. He was unfamiliar with the word tennis but the face of the man was the same as the one that stared up at him from the floor. The man was known. Arbitan knew people would be looking for him; he had to make him disappear; keep himself hidden until he could assess his power. The immediate loss of that small amount of power, the discovery of the portal on the desk, he felt vulnerable, for the first time in millennia Arbitan felt mortal. He shook the feeling off, The Seventh Event was in motion and he had no time for weakness.
The host had known the man; he searched for his feelings towards him. Long-time friend, disrespected, cocky, arrogant, drug problem, waste of talent. Arbitan then used the portal in front of him. The web page loaded in front of him and he had Tyler's life at his fingertips. Arbitan marvelled at the information in front of him before he had needed to infiltrate the army of his enemy, with this, he could simply see into their soul. The body must be lost. Arbitan looked around, the words and purposes for all the technology around him surged into him, the cars the host had been working on, the machinery used to mould them into his shape, this had been his workshop. The host would not be returning here.
The bodies were wrapped and placed in the back of the Ferrari, mirrored glass, personalised plates it would be forever tied to its owner, Arbitan studied it, sleek, powerful, he ran his hands along the metal that had been honed like a sword. It flowed from front to rear; he could see every crease and fold in the metal. This was a thing of beauty, men of this world would covet it and they would kill for it. He thumped his fist down on the wing. It's what's wrong. It is a sign of imbalance; they are striving for more than they need. I can see why I am needed, they shall return to their position, they will work to perpetuate the world, enough damage has been done.
Arbitan brushes his thoughts aside. He started to clear up the mess he had left, blood, bones and glass all removed from sight, the knowledge of DNA meant this was a meticulous process, materials used in preparing vehicles, degreaser and the incinerator proved to be useful tools; he sat behind the wheel of the vehicle. He saw glasses sitting on the dashboard, dark lenses, sunglasses. He put them on.
It seemed everyone under his influence knew how to operate this beast especially the host, he was especially attuned to this contraption. Arbitan turned off the technological assists on the vehicle and drove out of the garage. The world beyond him was alien, huge buildings loomed all around him blocking out the sun, the deciding battle could begin here and no one would know. He saw a button in front, Satnav. He thought to himself how useful this could have been in the past; travelling in the blink of an eye, no need to march to battle. He cycled through various options on the small screen in the vehicle until he found what he was looking for, a Junkyard. A female voice in the car told him to turn left; the path is laid before me.
‘I'm in the hole, I can get the money, my boosters will pick up a decent few cars soon, a couple of Germans, I'll make sure of it. Hello… hello' Tony Senza hung up the phone; he was in trouble, losing all his emergency money in a bad bust at the docks. He needed a score and quickly he hadn't paid his tributes this month and he had no desire to take on some help from his bosses. He looked around the room that had become his bedroom, camp bed in the corner, beer fridge and his personal favourite pile of unwashed clothes in the corner. The last woman who had been coerced back here had pitied him for that; no-one will pity me one day. The safe door hung ajar, no point in locking it during the day, the few hundred bucks inside would pay his boosters then he could set to work trying to turn whatever scrap heaps they brought in into a clean car to sell on. He looked out over the river to Manhattan Island from his dirty office window; he could get there one day be someone of influence. The roar of a highly tuned sports engine broke his concentration. He looked around and saw a man drive up in the most beautiful car he had ever seen. The man stepped out no doubt some rich kid living off his parents. Broad shouldered black straight hair and a sneer on his face he wore a black leather jacket, leather gloves and shades. The jackass thinks he's a model Tony thought. Model or not he had money, and tony was going to relieve him of it. He might start with those shades; they were so black that the guy could have no eyes behind them.
Arbitan drove up to the office. A fat man inside appeared, Arbitan immediately felt revulsion this creature was a glutton, greed was his motivation, he longed to end him there and then but he needed him. He strode into the office and looked the man in the eye ‘Italian, isn't it?'
‘What do you mean asshole? I can see it's a Ferrari, what do you want me to do about it?
Pathetic bug. Arbitan thought. The plan formulated in his head. The glutton looked out the window at the vehicle and as he did Arbitan struck he grabbed the man on the right-hand side of the neck, on the pressure point and squeezed the man struggled briefly and then dropped, incapacitated for the time being. ‘You were never with me', he said coldly. Arbitan moved quickly, he placed the man in the back room of his office noticing with disgust that it doubled up as his bedroom. Filth stained the walls as did pictures of naked females. Picking his way through the mess he found a safe at the back of the room, open, he had disturbed the man placing money in it. He went to the back of the car and retrieved the body of Tyler, he was not precise, he smeared the blood all over the man and the room he threw the remains down and went to get Stan's. A whirring sound distracted him, Camera, he had been recorded doing this, before getting Stan he searched the office, finding the recorder he tore out the tape and placed another in the drive. Cursed technology. Arbitan knew this age would be a battle even without his enemy.
With the eviscerated body in the office he needed to remove the vehicle and Stan, placing Stan in the driver seat with the tape, he went to the controls of the giant hand-shaped structure, crane he lowered the Ferrari and Stan into the crusher. Watching as the jaws clenched and destroyed all trace of the host's former partner. He felt regret, not for the loss of the hosts friend but for the loss of the car. The jaws did their work and a metal cube rolled down the chute, the prancing horse badge of the car was all that remained to distinguish it from the other crushed remains. Walking back to the office he carried a can of gasoline with him, he doused the office in the fluid. He remembered another age, lighting a beacon, looking out from the top of the temple, the lifeless body of his foe in his arm looking out on the war. They had all stopped their individual battles over, the forces of his enemy had wept, some took their own lives, his supporters rejoiced they cheered at the flames. He lifted the sword and removed his enemies head showing them all he had been victorious; this wasn't a beacon it was a pyre. He watched as the flames began licking at the wooden structure the heat warmed his face; fire had been a gift to this world. When he was certain the inferno would remain he looked across the landscape. The towering skyscrapers of Manhattan would have made a fitting battleground if the time had been right. He would search there first; whoever was feeding him knowledge there would bow before him. He would recruit the first of his subjects, this world was dangerous. Arbitan
walked out of the yard and strode off. The sun was dimmed behind the dark glass, he liked these, they would serve him well, no-one needed to see those eyes yet.
The smoke began to rise from Senza's Auto salvage, carrying with it the only evidence this world had of the coming of the decider, he was loose on the plain again, six times he had risen when the people of the world had rejected the order of things, they had been purged and the remainder lived on. He was the instrument of balance, the maintainer order. As he walked past the alleyway an elderly beggar looked up from his slumber, he waited until the man walked past; he took out a small black notebook and began writing. When he was finished he pulled his jacket around him and followed at a distance.
11. Ashes
‘Detective Clements?'
Kim Clements turned around; she had been surveying the remains of Senza's junkyard. For years, the NYPD had kept a half closed eye on this place. Senza was a low-level member of a local criminal family, never worth a sting operation on his own the department had lived in hope that someday one of the ‘big boys' would have needed his services. Either that day had come or Tony stole the wrong car thought Kim. She walked over the to the crime scene team. ‘What have we got'?
‘We got one male burnt to a crisp but clinging to life another murdered before the fire, head almost hanging off left arm ripped apart, it doesn't make sense. If Senza killed the Doe then who lit the fire?' In her head Kim agreed, she didn't need this. She hadn't needed any of the homicide cases that landed on her desk recently. She needed a partner, she needed a cigarette she did not need a case that didn't go from A to B. ‘You're right, makes no sense at all, first get me an ID on the Doe.'
Kim surveyed the scene again; whoever did this is a professional. She had looked for the usual, CCTV, tyre tracks or anything but all that turned up was ashes. She walked into the living quarters of the office. There was no roof on the place and the camera that had been in the area were melted stains on the walls, the safe was open and its fireproof design left some trace of money but little else. She looked again; there was a small red spot on the corner of the door. ‘Blood' she yelled and the lab guys were straight in. ‘get me a reading on this so we know who we're dealing with here.' Forty-five years old and still I can spot things others ignore.