Galen grabbed Isabelle’s hand. The shield vanished. With single-minded focus, he visualized the equation to conjure a flying platform beneath them. He seized her about the waist. He formed an equation of motion, then another, then another. The platform swerved around the static shape, snaked out the doorway, and shot up the stairs. They slammed into the front door and fell to the floor.
Isabelle grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, knocking Galen in the head. He dissolved the platform, stumbled to his feet. They raced out into the darkness.
They fled down the long alley to the lights and activity of the main street, ran several more blocks, dodging pedestrians, before finally slowing, walking. Galen looked back. The streets were busy as those in port sought out late-night entertainment.
Energy surged through him, refusing to be calmed. Danger seemed close, imminent. He couldn’t believe they had gotten away.
That was a Shadow, wasn’t it? Isabelle wrote. Somewhere along the way they had taken each other’s hands, and Galen didn’t want to release her.
I don’t know, he replied. I never saw anything like it.
Did they let us go? Why would they let us go?
I don’t know.
Too shaken up to do more conjuring, they decided to take the tube home. Isabelle said she wanted some time to calm down before facing Burell, and Galen hoped the nervous energy within him would begin to dissipate. With all the spells he had cast, his energy showed no sign of declining. He hadn’t even grown breathless. Yet his mind felt exhausted.
They went down into the tube station, ran their credit chits through the reader. A train must have just left, because the station was empty. They stood near one end of the platform, silent, caught in the memory of what had happened.
The lights in the station dimmed. A blue sphere of energy appeared in front of them, perhaps a yard across. It was the work of a techno-mage. Galen turned quickly, certain he would see Elric or Burell or someone who had come to help them.
But the platform was empty.
Isabelle’s face appeared inside the sphere, then Galen’s. “We know your ways.” The voice from the sphere was artificial, and not very skillfully created. What was clearly meant to be deep and powerful had a tinny undertone. Elric would never have let him get away with it.
Isabelle conjured a full-body shield.
“You seek knowledge,” the voice continued. “We have knowledge.” Within the sphere, diagrams and equations flashed by one after another. “We are far ahead of you in technology. But of all the younger races, your group is closest to ours in knowledge. We find you worthy to share in what we know.”
The jumble of images resolved itself into an image of the galaxy. “A firestorm is coming. We have no ill intentions toward you. That is why you were allowed to leave. We should be allies.”
At the mouth of the tunnel, Isabelle wrote. Look.
Galen glanced toward the end of the platform. There, inside the tunnel, a dark figure stood in shadow.
“Who are you?” Isabelle demanded.
“We are friends,” the sphere said.
“We prefer to keep to ourselves,” Galen said. “When we do form alliances, it is in our own time and at our own whim.”
“Galen, you seek to understand the secret you have uncovered. We can help you.”
Galen’s breath stuck in his throat. “What secret?”
“The others of your kind fear you and your power, and even now hope for your destruction. That is why they have sent you to us. You show them what they should be, and are not. We also show the universe what it should be, and is not. Many prefer to destroy those who are superior, rather than face the knowledge that they are inferior.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Galen said but at the same time he wondered if it could be true. Elric had thought him unable to perform the task set by the Circle. Had the Circle sent him in the hope that he would be killed? Had they made him a mage only to use him as cannon fodder? He couldn’t believe it.
“We praise your discovery instead of condemning it. And we would aid you in your work, opening repositories of knowledge to you that you can barely imagine.”
Elric had told Galen that the Shadows found others to do their bidding, that they worked behind the scenes, creating disputes and inciting war. “You seek to divide the techno-mages,” Galen said, “as you seek to divide the galaxy, to pit us against each other in war and chaos. But we will not be divided. The Code unites us.”
“You are already divided,” the sphere said.
A sense of dread filled Galen, and he felt a driving need to act, to strike back at this threat. He held it tightly, scanned the figure in the mouth of the tunnel. Energy characteristic of a techno-mage emanated from it, but some of the normal traits were missing. Then he realized that this was not a full mage; the figure was wearing a chrysalis. Had one of the new chrysalis-stage apprentices joined with the Shadows? Was that the division he meant? Or was it something deeper?
“Isabelle,” the sphere said “you struggle to find answers that were already found long ago. You seek samples of the great tech for study. You look for an ancient place of power, the Well of Forever. We know where this place is. We can take you there. Today. Tomorrow. At your will. There you will find the ancient knowledge of the techno-mages. There you will find the materials you need to complete your studies. And there you will find the way to save your mother.”
Inside the sphere, Burell’s image appeared, her face broken, deformed.
Isabelle gasped. “You bastards!” Before Galen knew what was happening, she had conjured a fireball and hurled it at the figure in the mouth of the tunnel.
A dim blue glow enveloped the dark figure just before the fireball hit. Fire splashed out, and at the site of the impact the flames sank into the shield, interacting with the top layers, spreading outward in a yellow-red wave. In the illumination of that fleeting circle of light, the face of the figure flashed into stark relief.
Mouth open in startled terror, eyes wide—it was Tilar. On his head was fastened a chrysalis. The yellow-red wave overran his face, growing dimmer as it diffused. At last only the blue remained. Tilar’s shield had held. The dim blue glow vanished, and Tilar faded into the blackness.
Isabelle conjured a flying platform and shot off after him. Galen quickly followed. In the mouth of the tunnel they conjured globes of light, but there was no sign of Tilar. They used sensors in case he was disguising himself, but still nothing.
Galen didn’t understand how this could have happened. How had Tilar acquired a chrysalis? And how had he known of Galen’s secret, and Isabelle’s dream? They hadn’t told him.
Isabelle prowled deeper into the tunnel, shaking her head. “That bastard. That bastard. That bastard.”
Galen turned. A breeze was blowing down the tunnel. “Isabelle. The train is coming.”
“That bastard,” Isabelle said again. “That bastard!”
Galen formulated the equation of motion, sped to her side. The breeze gained strength. “We should go back. We need to tell Elric all we’ve discovered.”
Isabelle was shaking her head, scanning ahead.
“We need to check on Burell.”
She turned sharply, her face flushed and hard with anger. For a moment Galen thought she might attack him. The wind whipped through their robes. Then her eyebrows rose, and he saw, in an instant, her anger turn from Tilar to herself. “What have I done?” she said.
She had rejected the only chance to save Burell. She had made the right decision. But what could he say? Galen reached for her hand, but it was encased in her shield. With a slight tingling, his fingers slipped away.
They flew back to the station. Only when the tube came did Isabelle dissolve her shield. Then she took his hand.
She remained silent on the ride home, her hand in his. Twice he heard her release a heavy breath. She was trying to calm herself to face Burell. Galen needed to do the same, to still that wild energy. He began a mi
nd-focusing exercise, but found he could not concentrate.
The tech was closely guarded by the Circle, the secret of its creation held only by them. How, then, could one cast away by the Circle, one found unfit, still have access to it? How did Tilar have a chrysalis?
You are already divided.
The Shadow had let them go. Tilar, speaking for the Shadows, had offered them alliance. Did the Shadows think that Galen and Isabelle would join them because Tilar had? Or were other mages involved?
Tilar had known their secrets, had known just what to say. Galen had thought he and Isabelle were investigating the Shadows. But now it seemed the Shadows were investigating them. The mages were not safe.
And the Drakh had said it would be only a few weeks before the Shadows took the first steps toward war.
— chapter 12 —
“You are well?” Elric asked.
They stood again in Elric’s circle, among the vibrant green stones and the sharp sea breeze. In the dreamlike strangeness of the electron incantation, Galen thought, Elric’s sharp-edged figure looked almost like a flat paper cutout against the hazy background of mist.
“Yes,” Galen said. “Our plan was poorly conceived and poorly executed but we managed to survive it.” Isabelle had sent Elric the recording she’d made. Galen felt ashamed, thinking of Elric watching it, seeing how quickly their plan had fallen apart.
“It would have been difficult to prepare for what happened,” Elric said. “You have gathered valuable information. And you have handled yourselves well under unexpected and difficult circumstances.”
The praise shocked Galen into silence.
“Thank you,” Isabelle said.
Elric approached them, his figure becoming more three-dimensional. “Have you tried to locate Tilar since he left you?”
Galen nodded. “We detected the characteristic mage energy while he was in the tube station. But later, when we searched for it, we found no trace. He could have dissociated to hide.”
“How could Tilar know so much?” Isabelle’s face still carried some of the hardness he had seen in the tube station. She was still angry at Tilar, and herself. “I never knew him well, and we told him little in our meeting. If he has no continuing relationships with mages, then what is his source?”
“Some,” Elric said, “may have come from Morden. Whether that accounts for all, I am not certain.”
Galen suddenly saw the symmetry. “The Shadows sent Morden to investigate us, just as the Circle sent Isabelle and me to investigate the Shadows.”
“Yes,” Elric said. “Each side has sent its scouts. Now the time has come for the next step.”
Morden had searched the convocation for allies, just as he and Isabelle had searched the port city. They had found G’Leel to provide information. Had Morden found anyone?
The situation had seemed much simpler when they had been sent to Zafran 8. The threat had been from without, not within. Yet now, everything had changed. “How could Tilar possess a chrysalis?” Galen asked.
Elric’s lips formed a thin, grim line. “That is the most troubling,” he said. “The Circle must launch an investigation at once.”
But where could Tilar have gotten the chrysalis, except from one of the Circle? Galen believed in the Circle, trusted them. He knew that Tilar’s accusation could not be true, that Elric and the rest could not possibly hope for his death. Tilar had planted the lie among truths, as mages were taught to do. It failed to convince.
Yet Galen also knew that Elric had not believed he could succeed. And he remembered Elric’s anger toward the Circle when he’d left for Zafran 8. Why had Elric been angry? And why had Galen been chosen?
Elric had refused to explain. The Circle might even have forbidden him to do so. Yet Galen felt as if he needed some explanation, some certainty to hold to.
Isabelle was looking at him curiously. She turned to Elric. “Do you think the information we have gathered is sufficient to convince the Circle that the Shadows have returned?”
“That,” said Elric, “is difficult to say. I believe your evidence leaves no room for doubt. This time, I think, they must accept the truth.”
“I trust in the Circle,” Galen said. “But I require something. A reason. You never told me why I was sent to Zafran 8. I know that I was not the best choice. I know that you were unhappy with my selection. So why then was I sent?”
Two frown lines appeared between Elric’s brows. His voice turned hard. “We have spoken of this. What more would you have me say?”
Galen pushed a bit further, hoping Elric might understand his need. “Tilar said the Circle feared my power. He said they hoped for my destruction. He said that is why I was sent.”
Elric spoke through clenched teeth. “What the members of the Circle fear, and what they hope, is private to each. You were chosen, and you went willingly.” Elric fixed Galen with his stern gaze, forcing Galen to linger over that truth. “You have proven yourself skilled and in control of your powers. If any doubted the wisdom of your initiation, you have begun to put those doubts to rest.”
They did doubt him. That’s what Elric was telling him, without telling him. He had been sent on the task as a test. Although they had initiated him, they did not believe in him. They feared he would again act on instinct, that he would do what they had forbidden, that he would unleash the power that could not be unleashed.
Galen’s uncertainty evaporated, replaced by shame. They should fear him. They should doubt him. Perhaps, even, they should hope for his destruction. The tech was subtle and restless, and if his control wavered for a moment, he could conjure destruction on reflex.
Galen met Elric’s harsh gaze. “I will not betray their trust. I am sworn to that purpose.”
“As it should be,” Elric said. “For now, you have done enough. I wish you had not found what you have found. But we choose to live in knowledge, not ignorance. And we now know that the situation is grave. I will recommend that the Circle declare your task completed and call for your immediate return. You should hear from me soon.” Elric hesitated, looking to Isabelle. “Your mother?”
“Is not well,” Isabelle said.
“Does your home remain protected?”
Galen hadn’t even thought of it. Tilar knew Isabelle, could find the apartment. Most mages had extensive protection warding their homes and places of power, but Galen didn’t know how Burell’s had been set up, or whether they would remain operational despite her illness.
“Yes,” Isabelle said. “If any changes are required, she has given me full access.”
Elric nodded. “Be wary. You are vulnerable. I am here if needed.”
The circle of standing stones suddenly lost its depth, becoming washed out and pale, like a projection. Then every thing went black, and there was a horrible vertiginous moment where he received no sensory input of any kind, where he was cut off from everything. At last Galen found himself back on the sofa in Burell’s apartment, Isabelle beside him. Outside the incantation, only an instant had passed.
She pushed to the edge of the sofa and turned toward him, speaking gently. “Why the Circle sent you is irrelevant. Whether they hoped for your success or failure is irrelevant. You shouldn’t worry about the Circle stopping you from what you need to do. You should worry about you stopping yourself from what you need to do.”
Galen felt a flash of understanding. “You’ve faced the same problem.”
“I saw Burell struggle with it for many years, and I determined to handle it differently.” She threw an arm across him and squeezed. She had released him and stood before he had a chance to react. “Let me check on her.”
As she left, Galen looked toward the front door. Whatever warding Burell had designed, he doubted it could protect against a Shadow. That one had passed easily through Isabelle’s shield.
Deciding that the answer to worry was action, Galen studied the recording Isabelle had made that night. When the Drakh had awoken to the image of his god, he had seemed con
vinced of the illusion’s reality. Galen believed his answers were true, despite his later claims. Once the Drakh had been tranquilized, though, things had changed. The Shadow had manipulated the unconscious Drakh like a puppet, trying to repair the damage. The Shadow had controlled him through some sort of transmission.
Galen thought back to the times they’d picked up static on the probes—a Shadow in the room, somehow hidden, yet watching the Drakh, directing him.
Isabelle came out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. “She’s not asleep, but she’s resting. She looks better.” Isabelle flashed him a small, hopeful smile.
“Good.” Galen smiled back, glad to see that the hard anger had finally left her face. “I was just thinking of those times we saw static through the probes. The Drakh never spoke to the Shadow.”
Isabelle nodded. “Except that word—that untranslatable word he said when he was coming out of the illusion. I think he was calling for it.”
“I think so too. But he was disoriented then. What if their normal method of communication is through that transmission? I detected a transmission that involves the lower protuberance of the Drakh’s brain?”
Isabelle brought her hands together and her fingers moved. He knew she was calling up her recording. “Then if we could intercept and decode those transmissions,” she said, “we would have access to some of their most private communications.” She drifted to the armchair beside the sofa. “If you work on intercepting, I’ll take decoding.”
He returned to the recording, focusing on the excitation he had sensed in the Drakh’s brain. The energy producing the excitation was in a narrow band. He studied the breakdown of frequencies, amplitudes. The signal was compressed so that what had at first seemed simple was impossibly complex, a snarl of chaotic impulses that resembled nothing so much as random noise. It seemed impossible to decode. But he would leave that to Isabelle.
She was already engrossed in the work. It was late, and they should have gone to bed but Galen was far too wound up to sleep. Elric had said he would get back to them soon, anyway. And Galen felt better keeping an eye on the door.
Casting Shadows (The Passing of the Techno-Mages #1) Page 25