Shadow City

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  “Which will deplete you again and delay retrieving Nayan’s belongings.”

  Max snorted. Belongings. As if his heart, silk, and horn were junk he’d left behind in an old apartment. “And if we don’t leave the river through that gate?”

  “Trouble.”

  “Then if you can’t fix yourself, I’ll take us into the abyss. I’d rather be tired than dead.”

  “Keep a tight grip. When we drop, I won’t have the strength to hold on to you.”

  “Are you just trying to get me to feel you up?” Max said, putting her arms around his waist.

  He chuckled but didn’t reply. His eyes were squeezed shut. Magic flared around them and swelled thick inside the cocoon of his wings. It nearly choked her. Both of Ilanion’s hearts thumped loudly in his chest, and his breathing was harsh against the wash of the river water. His muscles bulged as if he were struggling with a massive weight.

  “Now,” he whispered, his neck cording.

  Suddenly, they were falling. Max’s stomach lurched into her throat as they went into free fall. Just how the hell could they fall out of an underground river? The answer was obvious: she was trapped in an Escher painting. There was no other answer. She felt a rumble of laughter in her stomach and choked it back. Now wasn’t the time to get hysterical. Or get a case of gallows humor. She held tightly to Ilanion.

  “Can you fly?” she demanded.

  He didn’t answer.

  She slapped his cheek with the flat of her hand. “Dammit! Do I take us into the abyss or not?”

  She couldn’t tell if he heard her. The air whistled loudly around them. How far did they have to fall before they splatted on something? Ilanion’s wings still wrapped her tightly. She needed to make a decision.

  “Ilanion!”

  His eyes popped open. Golden light poured out of them. He stared, but she didn’t think he saw her.

  “Ilanion, if you don’t start flying now, I’m pulling us into the abyss. Count of three. One. Two. Th—”

  Before she could finish, his wings unfurled. There was a loud popping sound as they filled with air. He let out an agonized cry, his face twisting. The left wing wilted, and his arm hung limp. They started to drop again, spiraling like an autumn leaf on the wind.

  “You can do better than that,” Max called, clinging to him. “Fight. It’s just pain. Get us down to the ground, and you can rest.”

  She looked back over her shoulder to see just where the ground was. Fuck. It was coming up fast.

  They were falling into a gray mass that might have been a lake or a parking lot. Either way, there wasn’t going to be a whole lot left of either of them when they hit.

  Ilanion went rigid. Max could feel him pouring his energy into his healing. His body flared with magic. Suddenly, his wings began to beat, and they steadied.

  Magic continued to burn around the eagle mage, and Max was grateful that she was wearing the protective armor. Otherwise, she’d have been cooked extra crispy.

  They sank lower, their progress growing more controlled as Ilanion healed himself. It was impressive. Self-healing took a huge toll, and to do it while flying pretty much confirmed that he was at least part god. Max blew out a slow breath. What had she got herself into? The Korvad controlled Chadaré and clearly made Ilanion nervous. They’d stripped Scooter of his power. How the hell was she going to fight them?

  With style. She could almost hear Niko’s voice. She grinned, despite herself. Do try not to die, won’t you? That was Tyler. It would have been followed by a delicate yawn. And Oz: Keep your head down and don’t be stupid. Lise: Bitch, do not even think about leaving me alone with all this testosterone. Giselle: You can’t win if you die, so suck it up. Tutresiel: Princess, you aren’t even trying if you’re dying.

  And Alexander: Come home.

  Max closed her eyes, pain squeezing her hard. She missed them all so much. Inside her mind, a ribbon floated through, questioning, distressed. Her armor. She laughed, nearly choking herself. Her armor was worried about her. She was going insane.

  Swallowing hard, she stuffed her emotions down into her fortress where they belonged. She needed to keep her cool if she was going to survive.

  She looked down again. The gray area below was neither a lake nor a parking lot. It was a pool of shadow. It rippled and swirled like smoke off a raging fire. Max couldn’t see a damn thing through it.

  “Hold tight,” Ilanion said roughly. “Things are about to get interesting. Trust me. I’ll get us through.”

  In other words, Don’t take us into the abyss. Max nodded understanding. He gave her a pirate grin, and then his wings clamped tightly down, and they plummeted into the shadows.

  Instantly, they were caught up in a maelstrom. Hurricane winds slammed them from every side, battering them with invisible fists. Had Ilanion’s wings been unfurled, Max was pretty sure they’d have been ripped off.

  She had no good sense of how long they remained inside the shadow storm. Nor could she tell if they were making any progress in any direction. They spun and whirled until she was dizzy and nauseated. Ilanion’s magic continued to flare brightly, and his face was a mask of concentration.

  Suddenly, the storm let them go. Ilanion tipped them sideways, and his wings flared. Max sucked in deep breaths, trying to steady her shaking muscles.

  “What was that?”

  “A shortcut. No one will track us through it. Only a handful of people can navigate it all. Most who try get stranded inside and die.”

  “Nobody knows you can go through it, do they?” Max asked shrewdly.

  He shook his head. “Only you.”

  “How’s your wing and arm?”

  “I’ll live.”

  The aura of his magic was subsiding, and his skin was cooling. His eyes remained brilliant yellow, and he looked strong. His arm no longer hung limp, and his wings flapped powerfully as they flew high across the city.

  Max stared down at the sprawling place in amazement. From above, Chadaré looked as if it went on forever. She could see the enormous open space where she and Scooter had taken refuge and she’d fought off the hunter. The Torchmarch was a sea of shadow pricked by flashes of firelight.

  “How big is this place?” Max wondered.

  “It’s difficult to say. Chadaré is always changing. Parts of it sometimes simply disappear. Sometimes they return, sometimes they don’t. At least, not yet. But I would guess there are at least eight or nine million beings inhabiting the city. The Torchmarch contains more than two million alone.”

  “That’s a hell of a lot of sewage,” Max murmured.

  He laughed. “Magic has its perks. We’re almost there. Are you ready?”

  “Always. But do you suppose there’s anything you can do to hide your shiny wings so they don’t look quite so much like a lighthouse beacon?”

  “Of course.” He closed his eyes, and Max felt a layer of magic fall over them like a blanket of soft snow. They were both covered in a sheath of what looked like ash. His eyes opened again and gleamed like liquid gold against the charcoal gray. “Good enough?”

  “Show-off.”

  He smiled, and then he tipped forward, his wings closing tight against his body. Max yelped and wrapped her legs around his as they plunged headfirst into Chadaré. She felt laughter rumble through his chest. Fucker. He was enjoying this way too much. He was as bad as Tutresiel.

  They dropped nearly a mile, and Max was pretty sure they weren’t going to be able to pull out of the free fall when Ilanion flared his wings. The pockets of bone and leathery hide gave a loud popping sound. Max and Ilanion jerked upward like they’d been caught on a fishhook. Instantly, he tipped into a shallower dive and flew them down to the ground, landing in a small courtyard in the corner of a spacious estate.

  Max let go of him and staggered away on rubbery legs. She bent and put her hands on her knees, drawing in a couple of deep breaths before straightening. The ash spell still clung to her and Ilanion, making him look more demonic than not.


  “Where are we?”

  “About a half-mile away. Follow me.”

  He led her down several garden paths to the outer wall. There was a gate, but he didn’t try to open it. Instead, he reached for Max, but she waved him away.

  “I’ve got it.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her and then at the thirty-foot wall but didn’t argue. He gestured. “After you, then.”

  Max flexed her knees and jumped. The angel feather embedded in her palm made her soar well above the wall. She landed lightly on the far side of the street. Ilanion dropped down beside her.

  “You continue to surprise me,” he said quietly. There weren’t any pedestrians close enough to overhear, but there was no point in taking chances.

  Up the street, a carriage drawn by two beasts that weren’t quite horses trundled toward them. In the other direction, a tinker driving a pedal wagon rolled along, his metal wares clanking loudly. Several robed figures hurried along carrying baskets and pushing hand carts

  Max could feel the magic of Asherah’s wards, and the opalescent mist billowed above the rooftops like a beacon. Together, she and Ilanion headed in that direction. In a few minutes, they stood outside the cream and red stone walls.

  She started when the ash spell shrank away and disappeared.

  “The less active magic we take inside, the better,” Ilanion murmured with a glance back at the street to see if they’d been noticed. “Active spells can call attention to themselves.”

  “So, the old-fashioned way,” Max said. She eyed the gate where she’d lost the hunter’s trail that first day in Chadaré. The only way inside was through the gate or by taking a blind leap over the wall into the opalescent mist. Her locking spells would let her open the gate, which meant that she and Ilanion could walk in like they belonged there. Jumping over might trigger defense wards.

  She grabbed the gate handle and twisted. Magic reached out to her, sliding over her like sticky tentacles. But they couldn’t find a grip on the armor or her skin. She was a walking key, and the lock couldn’t hold. The ward magic curled away, and the bolt inside shot open. She caught Ilanion’s startled look and winked. Another surprise. She pushed the gate open.

  They stood in a kind of garden made of silver, gold, and jewels. Witchlights lit the place, making it glow with fairy-tale brilliance. The ground was paved with opals, the benches made from sapphires and rubies, all of it mortared with gold and silver.

  It was hard to see through the dazzle, and Max’s skin crawled with the feeling that they weren’t alone. She felt exposed. There were no shadows at all to hide in.

  She cast a questioning look at Ilanion. Did he have any idea where they were or where they were going? He shook his head. Time to explore, then. Motioning for him to follow, Max started away from the wall.

  Despite the feeling of being watched, they encountered no one. Nor did they hear anything. The air was thick with silence. Even the jingle of their weapons and the rub of their clothing were muted. It felt as if they were walking into a trap, but Max didn’t see any other choice. She definitely didn’t want to leap up into the mist. She had a feeling that anything passing through it would set off very definite alarms, if they weren’t killed outright.

  The gemstone garden went on for what seemed like forever. Max stopped near a bridge that went over a frozen river of rubies and pearls. She bent close to Ilanion’s ear.

  “We should have got somewhere by now,” she whispered. But even that small sound was caught by the trees and sent a vibration rippling through the garden. Leaves shivered, and a low crystal whine began to grow, slicing through the syrupy silence. “Shit,” Max said through clenched teeth.

  The sound around them increased. Max could feel vibrations resonating up through her feet and into her bones. Soon they’d shatter, like a wineglass when an opera singer hits just the right note. Ilanion had wrapped himself in a flickering sheath of protective magic. He might be able to hold out against the noise, but she couldn’t.

  She turned and started to run, holding on to her swords to keep them from jangling. Her feet were covered in the magic armor and made no sound. Ilanion was nearly as silent.

  The noise echoed and reechoed again and again, growing louder as the vibrations of the leaves and flowers increased. It drilled down into Max’s skull, sending darts of fire and darkness across her vision. It felt like her skull was cracking apart.

  Frustation and fury roared inside, and she chopped at a tree with one of the swords. The trunk exploded in a hail of glass and metal. She turned away, letting her armor take the brunt of the burst. But it gave her an idea. If she didn’t have a path, she’d damned-well blaze a trail out of the place.

  She grabbed Ilanion and slung him over her shoulder and leaped into another tree. It was shaking like a wind was tearing at it. The mist swirled above her head and slid acidic tendrils across her cheek and neck. Her skin bubbled and blistered. Max ignored the pain and ducked to keep her eyes clear. She couldn’t afford to go blind. She chopped at the branches of the tree, shattering its crown. Jagged chunks of glass and twisted metal crashed to the ground.

  Max leaped to another and did the same, glad she wasn’t on the ground where the glass shrapnel would have made her job impossible. She looked over her shoulder between every jump, making sure that she was going in a straight line. Sooner or later, she’d get somewhere, or she’d break every tree in the garden.

  The vibrations were increasing. Every splintered tree seemed to double the level of cacophony. Ilanion’s nose and ears were bleeding despite his protective spell. So were hers. Her vision blurred crimson as tears of blood overflowed her eyes. Although she could feel her healing spells kicking into overdrive, they weren’t keeping up with the damage. She remembered her armor, and it slid up to cover her ears, lending her a little bit of relief.

  She flung her head up. Smells. She launched herself headlong, following the scent trail. She leaped on a horizontal line, using all the spring of the angel feather to give her extra momentum. The resonance around them had grown into a shriek, and Ilanion’s body had begun to twitch and convulse. He was about done.

  Max flexed to land and jump again. Her feet passed right through the tree as if it weren’t there. She and Ilanion sprawled on a metal surface in a pool of silence. Max rolled to her feet and swung around, blinking to clear her vision.

  She stood on some kind of patio. It was circular and paved with gold. Tall, delicate columns made of solid amethyst ran around its edge, supporting an elegant cream-colored marble balcony. Behind it, broad arching doorways led away into the house. Or, rather, the palace.

  It was huge. Like a half-dozen Walmarts big. Except that it looked like the bastard child of Disneyland, with shiny swaths of glitter-covered ribbons, sparkling fountains, and a stardust shine to every surface. Even the opal mist above sparkled. There ought to have been little talking animals holding a tea party, cotton-candy flowers on candy trees, and princesses singing on every corner. It was enough to make Max want to vomit.

  “I told you I’d be waiting,” came a masculine voice from behind. She spun around.

  The hunter from earlier stood opposite, his five Calopus around his feet. His arms were crossed, and his eyes gleamed. He was aching for a rematch.

  Max flicked a glance at Ilanion. He lay on his shoulder, his back to the hunter. He was watching her through his helm, his jaw taut with pain. She stepped over him, putting him behind her. She hoped he had the sense to escape while she kept the hunter busy. He could still get out alive.

  “I hate to be late for a date,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “Especially one so eager as you. Shall we start with dinner, or do you want to get right to the sex?”

  He smiled, his long canine teeth gleaming. “Sex?” He shook his head regretfully. “It’s tempting, but I think we won’t get so far.”

  “Your loss,” Max said. “Come on, then. Let’s finish this.”

  His brows rose. “Do you want a moment to collect
yourself? I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”

  She eyed the spiked wolves at his feet. “What do you call those? They look like an advantage to me.”

  He followed her gaze and shrugged. “They are friends. And weapons.”

  “Not like taking advantage at all,” she said.

  “If you didn’t like the odds, maybe you shouldn’t have trespassed.”

  “You’ve got a point. All right, then, let’s get on with it, Tarzan. I’ve got things to do.”

  He straightened, his arms falling to his side. Something flashed in his eyes. Anger, yes, but more than that. It was . . . broken pride. Not good. Tarzan had a point to prove about losing, and that meant he wasn’t going to care about his own hide. Maybe Asherah had ripped him a new one and told him not to bother coming back if he failed again. Or maybe he just couldn’t stand to lose. Either way, this fight was to the death.

  Max drew the two swords as the five Calopus fanned out in a half-circle, lips peeling from their fangs as they snarled. She just hoped her new armor was as good as Ilanion claimed. A musical jab in her mind made her wince.

  “Sorry,” she said aloud. “Why don’t you show me just how good you are?”

  Tarzan thought she was talking to him. “I plan to,” he said, drawing his own blades with a flourish.

  Before he or his beasties could attack, Max took the fight to them, blades whirring. The clock was ticking, and Scooter was running out of time. Today, death had a deadline.

  VALERY WAS WAITING FOR ALEXANDER WHEN HE, Thor, and Tyler returned to Horngate just a few minutes before dawn. His skin was turning scarlet with the burn of the predawn. That was new.

  He stretched and shook himself. The sixty-mile run had been arduous but had burned up some of the raging emotion inside him. Faith, he told himself. Faith. Max had to be alive. Anything else was too awful to even contemplate.

  “You’re a son of a bitch,” Valery told him, her hands on her hips. The air around her trembled like desert heat off the pavement.

  “So I have heard.” He reached out to hug her, and she shoved him away. He grinned and grappled her close.