Shadow City

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  “He wants to see you.”

  Just then, a couple of dwarves set food in front of Max. While she dug in, Ilanion looked at her companions, taking in Thor’s battered hat, holey jeans, and tattered boots; Tyler’s lethal silence and ubiquitous twirling knife; Oz’s clean-cut brutality; Giselle’s quiet volcanic power; and Alexander’s wild savagery. His gaze slipped to the Grims, and he did a double take.

  “What?” Max asked around a mouthful of potato or something like it.

  “Your shaggy friends. I—” He cleared his throat. “They’re unexpected.”

  “Why?”

  His surprise was evident. “Don’t you know what they are?”

  “Sure. They’re Grims. Spirit dogs.”

  He stared at her and then broke into roaring laughter. Max quickly grew annoyed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  His laughter subsided slowly, and he shook his head. “Calling them Grims is like calling Chadaré a village. These beasts are . . . legendary. And independent. How did you convince them to help you?”

  “Convince them?” Max snorted. “They came all on their own, and I’m not at all sure they plan to actually help. What do the legends say about them? And how do you know what they are?”

  “I can see what they are. And I suggest you be polite. As for what the legends say? Just that they go anywhere they want and nothing can keep them out, magic has very little effect on them, and they have mysterious powers.”

  “Mysterious?” Giselle prodded. “That’s vague.”

  “They often appear when there are cataclysmic events.”

  “Like what?” Giselle asked.

  Ilanion shrugged. “Destruction of cities and worlds, the draining of oceans, and the genocide of entire peoples. Some stories claim the . . . Grims . . . are responsible.”

  “Sounds like fairy tales to me,” Oz said skeptically.

  “Might be,” Ilanion said, watching Beyul thoughtfully as he sipped his ale. “Might not.”

  “Still, this one saved my ass,” Tyler said, scratching the Grim’s head. “When the Fury blew. That was pretty cataclysmic.”

  “I never thought to see even one in my lifetime, and yet you have two,” Ilanion mused. Then he blinked. “A Fury?”

  “Yeah,” Tyler said in a tone that warned Ilanion not to press further on the subject.

  Silence fell. Then, “Actually we have an infestation of the furry bastards,” Oz said, breaking the tension.

  “It’s called a pack,” Thor corrected.

  “A pack,” Ilanion repeated, dumbfounded. “Of these . . . Grims? How?”

  “They moved in. They didn’t ask,” Oz said darkly. “Like termites.”

  “What have you got against dogs?” Tyler demanded.

  Oz rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. He turned to Ilanion. “Will this coliseum protect us from the sun and the dark?”

  Ilanion frowned in confusion.

  Max answered for him. “Didn’t I tell you? You can be outside around the clock without any trouble. The place is made of shadows.”

  That startled Oz. She was aware that Alexander had remained quiet during all of this exchange, and now he spoke up. “There are seven of us, plus the two Grims. Who else do we have fighting on our side?”

  “The Calopus is coming,” Max said, having no doubt that it was true. “So make it an even ten.” She eyed Beyul and the other Grim. “I hope you two plan to be more than just window decoration. We expect you to pitch in if you’re going to take up space. You, too, Spike,” she said to the Calopus. She looked at Ilanion. “That leaves ten spots to fill.”

  “I’ll take a squad of seven Enay and the two Zo’ons.” He pointed at the gargoyle and earthworm creatures. “They are solid fighters.”

  “We should talk about the layout of the area and make a plan of attack,” Max said.

  “We’ve already begun.” Ilanion pulled a map over.

  Instantly, it grew into a three-dimensional layout, with the fighting area marked by a bright pink square. It looked like it covered about a square mile. It was an industrial area, with blocky buildings in gray brick and rusty metal and not a whole lot else. Nothing green, no water. Some of the buildings were tumbled down, and others looked as if they ought to be condemned. Except for the lack of graffiti and cars, it could have been a rundown part of Chicago or Detroit.

  The others moved closer and started to discuss plans. Max ate, not paying much attention. Her mind wandered to Niko, Tutresiel, and Xaphan, and she found herself sinking into a mire of sadness.

  She started when a cold nose pushed against her neck. She turned. The Calopus had jumped up onto the seat again and was staring at her with those shimmering silver eyes. There was intelligence there and something that looked like concern.

  “I’m all right, Spike,” she told the beast, stroking its head carefully to avoid its spines. The beast huffed and lay down, settling its head on her thigh. She looked down at it, her lips curving in a smile.

  When she’d eaten all she could, she stood and motioned to Drida. How she could tell him apart from the other gargoyles, she didn’t know. Just like with the Grims, now that she knew him, she didn’t have any trouble telling him apart.

  “Can you take me to Scooter? Um, Nayan, that is.”

  Drida nodded, and she followed him out with Spike at her heels. Alexander caught her hand as she passed and gave her a questioning look.

  “Scooter,” she whispered, and he nodded and let her go.

  Drida took her out through another door, avoiding the kitchen. “This way,” he said, and started back toward Ilanion’s rooms. Before he got there, he stopped and touched a blank wall. Wards flashed, and part of the wall dissolved. Beyond was a small vestibule leading to a pair of broad red-lacquered doors. Six gargoyle guards stood watch outside.

  Drida opened the doors for her and motioned her inside. He shut them, leaving her alone with Spike and Scooter.

  The chamber had a high ceiling, thick carpets, heavy furnishings, and beautiful art. It was clearly designed for VIP guests. Inside was warm, with a smell of cinnamon and vanilla permeating the air. It didn’t cover the rotting stench emanating from the bedchamber.

  Max went across the sitting room. A bed at least the size of four king-size beds dominated the room. What sort of guests did Ilanion get? she wondered. Giants?

  Scooter was lying on the near side and covered in a light sheet. His hair was dull black straw. Bandages covered his forehead and chest. He drew shallow, jerky breaths, and sweat covered his skin. His eyes were closed, but as Max came to stand beside him, they opened, staring blindly as he turned his head.

  “You’re here,” he said, his voice nothing more than a thready whisper. He lifted his hand, clutching at the air. She put her hand in his, and his grip was surprisingly strong. “Take . . . me back. Don’t . . . want to die . . . here.”

  “I’m not taking you back. I’ve got your heart,” Max told him. “I’ve got a plan to get your horn and your silk.”

  “Too . . . late.”

  “Fuck that. You’re not dead yet.”

  “Won’t let them . . . have me. Take . . . me . . . back.”

  Fury flared hot inside her. “I promised you that I would get you whole or die trying, and that’s what I’m going to do.” She caught her breath, pain exploding in her chest. “People died, do you understand? They died because I wasn’t at Horngate. I wasn’t there. I’m not going to let those deaths be for nothing, you got that?”

  Her hand clenched into a fist, and it was all she could do not to hit him.

  He struggled to breathe. Then, “Who? Who . . . died?”

  “Niko. Both angels.”

  “Both . . . angels?” He sounded incredulous.

  “Yeah. And Niko. You remember him, right? He was my best friend and my brother, and he’s dead because a Fury rose at Horngate, and I was here with you. So you’re going to make sure that their lives weren’t wasted. I’ve challenged the Korvad. We’re meeting in the col
iseum shortly. They’re putting up the silk and the horn, and I’m putting up you and your heart.”

  She waited for him to respond. He said nothing.

  “I brought some help from Horngate, and Ilanion is joining the fight. We aren’t going to lose. Do you understand? We aren’t going to lose.”

  He wheezed. “I . . . understand.”

  His mouth worked as he tried to say more, but then he collapsed in on himself. For a moment, Max thought he was dead. A few seconds later, he drew a rattling breath, and relief flooded through her.

  Slowly, she smoothed the sheet over his chest and then took his hand in hers. “We’re going to win,” she told him. “You’re going to be OK. We’re all going to be OK.”

  She just wished she was sure of that.

  IT MADE ALEXANDER ITCHY WHEN MAX LEFT THE DINING room, and he did not settle until she returned with the spiked wolf right beside her. The animal clearly was as attached to her as Beyul was to him. He wondered how that had happened. He would ask later when they were alone.

  He felt his face tightening into an animal mask. For that, for the chance to have her in his bed and at his side for the rest of his life, he would not lose this battle.

  She came to stand beside him.

  “Everything all right?” he asked, seeing the hollow look in her eyes.

  “If we don’t hurry, there’s going to be no point.” She looked around the table. Everyone had fallen silent. “This fight has to be quick. Figure out how to kill and fast. No mercy. Don’t leave anybody behind who can come back to stab you in the back. Scooter is close to death. The only way to save him is to get this over with fast. I count him as mine,” she added, her gaze lingering on Giselle, who had remained silent.

  The others looked slightly startled and then nodded as if it made perfect sense for her to adopt the creature who had kidnapped her. But then, for Max, it did.

  She looked at Alexander, Tyler, and Oz. “What do you think?”

  It was Oz who answered. “The place makes for urban warfare. There’s no open spaces to have a standing fight unless we make one.”

  “Which we could do,” Ilanion said. “We could level everything if you want.”

  He was deferring to her. Alexander wondered at that. It was smart, in its way. She knew exactly what her people were capable of, and clearly, she had learned a lot about Ilanion and his people, enough to use their strengths to the best advantage. Plus, her life revolved around fighting. It was what she was made for. Still, this was Ilanion’s home turf, and he was at least a mage. Giving leadership over to Max was not what Alexander had expected. He reorganized his impression of Ilanion.

  “If we could trap them in the rubble, that would be fine, but razing the coliseum would only create unstable footing. That hurts us, too. Plus, it’ll clog the air with dust. Kills our ability to see and smell,” Oz said. “We’re better off picking them off one by one or herding them into smaller areas where we can ambush them. Or knock a building down on them.”

  “What are they likely to do?” Max asked Ilanion and Drida.

  “Brute force is Asherah’s style,” Ilanion said. “She’ll hit hard. Keeping buildings standing might not be our choice.”

  “We have one of two options: attack or defend,” Max said. “If we defend, we bring them to us. That way, we can set our own traps. Trouble with that is, they can take their time to find us. If we go on the hunt, we can keep them too busy to set any traps. So I say we hunt.”

  “You know me. I’d rather chase than sit on my ass and wait,” Tyler said, and Thor and Oz nodded agreement. Alexander was of the same mind.

  “We’ll break up. Each of us”—she pointed to the four Blades—“will follow someone. My bet is that they won’t divide their forces that much. A max of four teams, most likely, but I bet they’ll only split into two. They’ll want plenty of protection for their mages.”

  “OK, we follow them. What next? We need a way to coordinate,” Oz said, frowning at the map.

  “I can do it,” Giselle said. “I can walk in astral form. If it doesn’t take too long. I’ll be able to find all of you through your bindings. Even unbound, Max isn’t going to be any trouble, since I made her. If Alexander gives me a little blood, I should be able to connect to him, too, and guide you all.”

  “Will you be able to speak? Or is this all silent?”

  “Not out loud. But I can write a few words on the ether. You will be able to read them.”

  “OK. Good,” Max said, drumming her fingers thoughtfully. “We can work with that.”

  “Can these mages shield against physical attack?” Oz asked Ilanion. “Witches on earth usually can’t.”

  Ilanion nodded. “How long or how well those shields will hold when they are distracted and under attack, I can’t say.”

  “Ilanion’s people can sniper them with arrows,” Alexander said, with a glance at Drida, who nodded. “That will keep them off balance.”

  “What about the mages? They aren’t going to let you just harass them. They’ll come back at you hard,” Giselle said sharply.

  “This isn’t a garden party,” Max said, rolling her eyes. “Of course they will.”

  Thor started to laugh and turned it into a cough.

  “We’ve got witch chain,” Alexander said.

  Max showed hers to Ilanion, who turned it in his fingers. Finally, he let go. “It won’t hold any one of us for more than a few seconds.”

  “That’s all we need, if we time it right,” Tyler said. His knife was twirling in his fingers again. “All we have to do is get it around one of them and then put a bullet through their heads.”

  “How do we get close enough?” Oz asked.

  “We’d have to set up a trap. Push them somewhere where someone could step out and do it. The Zo’on dig in the dirt like fish swim in water. They can come up out of the ground and wrap a foot,” Drida said.

  “That could work,” Alexander mused, examining the layout of the city. “Ilanion could distract them to keep them from realizing that they are being herded.”

  “Or he could be bait,” Thor suggested. “If he got hurt or if they thought they could catch him easily, they might get so eager that they won’t think too hard about what they might be running into.”

  “I like it,” Oz said.

  “It’s a good plan,” Max said. She looked at the winged mage. “If you’re up for it.”

  He nodded. “That could work for one or possibly two, but three? There are five members of the Korvad, though I can’t imagine all will participate.”

  “Murphy’s Law says they’ll all want in on the action,” Tyler said, and Thor and Oz nodded.

  “All right. Then we’ll expect everybody and be happy if we get fewer,” Max said. “Doesn’t change the plan any. We take them in stages. First stage, we harrass them and take out a few of their minions. As many as we can get. Then we melt back. For the second stage, we’ll let them think they are leading us into an ambush. We’d just better make sure we spring ours first. We need to get one or more into a building and drop it on top of them. Let’s hope we catch more than one in the trap. That means Ilanion and Giselle will need to get out in front of us and lure them in. If they shield against the collapse, they’ll have to blast themselves out. My bet is that they’ll drop their guard in order do it. We’ll be waiting.”

  “What’s the third stage?” Tyler asked.

  “Set the witch-chain trap,” Alexander said. “They will be disoriented and will want to regroup. We will just push them where we want them. After that, if there are any more of them . . .”

  “Then it’s up to me and Ilanion to distract them so you can kill them,” Giselle said quietly. “By that time, they’ll have used up enough energy to make our attacks more than just annoying. If they’re angry or frightened, that will only make it harder on them.”

  “I don’t like risking you,” Oz growled.

  “Worse, it’s going to hurt like hell,” Max said cheerfully. “With your co
mpulsion spells nagging at you to protect her, that is.”

  “And if I don’t do it, then we may lose and be taken as slaves. Your compulsion spells will hate that more,” Giselle said quietly.

  There was a dark undercurrent to her words that made Alexander wonder what she was thinking. Max caught it, too, and gave the witch a long look.

  Before anyone could say anything else, a series of bell sounds resonated through the compound. The floors and ceilings shook, the lamps swayed, and the tables rattled. The sound rode through like a wave and disappeared, leaving behind a profound silence.

  “That’s it,” Ilanion said at last, straightening up and putting on his helm. “Ready or not, it’s time to go.”

  “Gear up,” Max said, and Oz and her Blades moved swiftly to gather their weapons.

  Alexander had little to do but slide on a combat vest. It held dozens of magazines for his .45s in the loops covering the front of it. The guns were already belted around his waist. He also fished out a bottle of single-malt scotch. When everyone was ready, he opened the lid and held it up. Silence fell again.

  “To absent friends. May they be proud of our work today.”

  He drew a deep drink and passed the bottle to Tyler. One by one, they drank. Tears slid down Max’s cheeks as she took a swig and handed the bottle to Giselle. The witch gasped as she swallowed, the color rising in her cheeks. Then the bottle traveled to Ilanion and the rest of the room.

  When they were through, Max took the empty bottle and set it gently on the table.

  “How are we getting there?” she asked Ilanion.

  “Air barge. Drida, bring Nayan up to the balcony.”

  “No,” Max said. “I’ll do it.”

  Alexander took her hand. “No. Let them.”

  She shot him a blistering look. “Ordering me around, Slick?”

  “Yes. Torturing yourself right now will not help us.”

  She snorted. “What makes you think I’m torturing myself?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because he’s known you for more than five minutes?” Tyler said. “If you had a whip, you’d probably be beating yourself with it.”

  “If I had a whip, I’d be beating you,” she said, but she did not pull out of Alexander’s grip.