Descent Unto Dark: The White Mage Saga #3 (The Chronicles of Lumineia)

by Ben Hale

  "How many Harbingers—"

  The general was interrupted by the president. "We'll get to that, Jim. Right now I want to know why you have kept magic hidden—and for how long."

  Hawk issued a troubled sigh. "Six thousand years ago the mages withdrew because their pride had led to war. I am sure you have heard the tale of Atlantis, although I'm certain you didn't know it was the mage capital of that era. Since then we have flourished in hiding. In nearly every aspect of life we have surpassed yours. We have mastered justice, order, health, and social issues."

  Several of the people in the other room bristled at Hawk's words, but the president's gaze only tightened.

  "For some time now we have debated whether to reunite with the world," Hawk went on, "but many worried that it would cause a war unlike any seen on Earth. Only a handful of mages are as powerful as those you witnessed, but collectively we could defy much of your armament—nuclear and otherwise. A war between the nations of Earth and the mages would be catastrophic. Alice and her Harbingers have—as they say—forced our hand."

  The president folded his arms. "So how many are like you?"

  Hawk's smile was sad, and Tess knew why. The very Iseonix they had battled had killed the rest of Hawk's family when it had been created.

  "You have no need to fear," Hawk said quietly. "I am the last of my kind, so my race will die with me."

  Tess blinked at his tone and threw him an odd look. Why had he said it like that?

  "And you?" the president asked, his gaze shifted to her.

  "As is mentioned in the video, I am an oracle," Tess said. "Which means I can do every kind of magic. Like Hawk I am unique. Most mages can only do one or two types."

  After a long pause the president released an explosive breath and glanced at Agent Pierce. Pierce's eyes flicked through the glass, his eyes going hard. "Sir, I don't think—"

  "Just open it," the president said. "From everything we've learned I don't think we could stop them if we wanted to."

  "Mr. President," General Branson said, "I agree with Agent Pierce."

  "Open it," the president repeated.

  Pierce issued a rumbling grunt and then muttered something into his radio. A moment later the entire wall of glass lifted into the ceiling with a whisper of mechanics. The president strode into the steel walled chamber and extended his hand. Hawk accepted it with a nod, and Tess followed suit.

  "I apologize for the abundance of caution," the president said and flashed a wry smile. "The recent revelations about our world have caused many to panic—even if they don't show it."

  Out of the corner of her eye Tess noticed several of the president's aides shift their feet. She resisted the urge to smile, and reminded herself of their purpose in coming.

  "Mr. President, before we go any further we should deal with the spy in your ranks."

  The president blinked in surprise. "The what?"

  "We have information that someone working here is a mage," Hawk said. "It would be ill-advised to continue until we have identified and taken care of him."

  Agent Pierce bristled. "Everyone in this building has been screened."

  "Not by us," Tess said.

  Branson issued a grunt. "I'm not sure we can trust their intentions, Mr. President."

  Tess snorted, and decided she liked Branson. He obviously didn't care if others heard what he thought. The president cocked his head to the side, and then released a long breath.

  "Jim, they could have leveled the place if they wanted to get to me." He met Tess's gaze. "Do what you have to do . . ."

  —The speed of the attack robbed Tess of breath. In a burst of motion, one of the secret service darted from the crowd and wrapped an arm around the president. A tongue of flame erupted from his finger and solidified into a glowing knife at the president's neck.

  "They will learn to fear us," he growled.

  Blood sprayed as he dragged it across the president's throat.

  Chapter 3: Rook

  Tess gasped, and it cost her a chance to retaliate. The spy leapt to the steel door and disappeared by the time she'd recovered. By then chaos reigned. Agents were rushing in pursuit, White House aides were screaming, and others had leapt to the president's fallen body.

  A handful of secret service turned their weapons on Tess and Hawk, bellowing for them to kneel and put their hands behind their heads. The large guns in the corners of the room turned on them as well.

  "He's a Harbinger!" Tess yelled, but couldn't make herself heard over the tumult. On all sides secret service blocked her path. In spite of her active gravity ring, the muzzles pointed at her were enough for her to worry. Then Hawk's voice cut through the din like a blade.

  "Hold!" The force of the roar was amplified by the burst of fire around his body. The report of gunfire was drowned out by the rushing flames. Mounted guns and smaller weapons alike melted, and everyone except for the general scrambled in retreat. Leaning over the president's body, General Branson refused to remove his hand from the president's neck. In the ensuing silence Hawk spoke.

  "As you will find, the president is not dead. I took the edge from the assassin's knife before it could do significant damage. General Branson, the cut should be shallow but maintaining pressure would be wise. Tess, you need to go after the assassin. I'll take care of things here."

  The president groaned and eased himself to a sitting position, causing several of the women to squeak in surprise. His face was white, but his jaw was rigid with determination. "Do what he says. Pierce, make sure no one shoots her."

  Tess threw him a grateful look before bolting to the door. The moment she was in the hall she leapt into the air and flew. Warping the gravity around her, she accelerated after the attacker. Fire gathered in her palms while she scanned for the Harbinger with her magesight.

  Every time she flew she felt a rush of confidence and power. This time it distracted her attention, and she did her best to clamp down on the emotion.

  The White House faded into the disparate colors of its basic materials as she slipped into her magesight. Walls, furniture, and flooring were more muted, while people lit up like Christmas lights. Each bore a unique combination of colors, defining their personality, emotions, and any magic within them. Many were scrambling to either run toward or away from the underground interrogation room. After a moment she spotted one that stood out among the others.

  The colors within him were the darkest she'd seen, suggesting he lacked any magic at all. At the same time there was a subtle aura of a shadow around him. It rippled as he hurried down a hall, and she caught a flicker of light that the barrier was blocking. Evidently he wore a sightshade. The enchantment would prevent a mage from identifying him, but was not perfect.

  In that tiny gap she recognized what magics he wielded. The shade of red indicated a fire mage, but there was another pair of magics. Their brightness was enough to spike her caution.

  He was already up three floors, and striding toward a rear exit. No doubt his familiarity with the White House personnel kept him from being challenged. She banked her way in pursuit. The walls of the White House blurred past her. Secret service agents cursed as she plowed through them, and they fumbled to get their guns out. She was long gone by the time they could.

  Four turns and several seconds later she burst from a side door and spotted her quarry. Already a hundred yards away, he maintained a hurried walk to avoid scrutiny. Now in the clear, she poured her magic into her wake and exploded after him . . .

  —The impact struck her in the back and knocked her to the ground. She wrapped her gravity around herself and tumbled to a stop, her back screaming in pain. She groaned as she sat up and reached for the spot, wincing as she felt the bruise. What the . . .

  The second impact knocked her sprawling, and this time she heard the report of a high-powered rifle. She should have felt relieved at surviving. Only such a strong bullet could have pushed that deep into her gravity ring. Fury exploded through her as she realized that th
e White House snipers were targeting her. The anger fueled her motion, and she climbed to her feet.

  Expanding the gravity ring, she stood in defiance as the next bullet ricocheted away. Detaching the spell from herself with a gesture, she left it in place and spun on her heel. More bullets pinged off the shield as she stepped into the air and flew after the spy.

  Her irritation mounted when she could not find him. Soaring higher, she switched to her magesight again. In seconds she spotted him. The spy had already escaped the grounds and was headed into the trees of a small park. Pouring fire and wind into her magic, she leapt after him.

  Twenty seconds later she entered the trees—but came to an abrupt halt when the assassin spun to face her. Hovering thirty feet from him, she gathered her magic, wary of his arrogant expression. Now that she got a good look, she realized she didn't recognize him.

  "Who are you?" she demanded.

  He smirked and dipped a short bow. "Rook by name, assassin by trade."

  His accent had changed, and his voice was now distinctly British. The shift sounded natural enough that she guessed he didn't care if his true heritage was known. He stood tall, muscular, and relaxed in his secret service outfit. He didn't seem to care that she had caught him. Her observations flashed across her mind at the same time she recalled something that the Swordsman had once said. She'd asked him what she should do if she came across another mage assassin. His answer had been a chilling, run.

  "You're a Harbinger," Tess stated. Trying to be subtle, she eased a little more space between them.

  Rook issued a bark of laughter. "They paid me to do a job. I did it. Doesn't make us mates or nothing."

  "But why?" she demanded. "You know what they're after, don't you?"

  "Who cares?" He shrugged. "Not my concern."

  "Are all mage assassins this close-minded?"

  Rook blinked, and then his eyes narrowed. "Swordsman," he spit the word like it was a curse. "I heard he'd done some work for the Guild."

  "At least I know who's better."

  He bristled. "Not according to the last time we tangled."

  "The Swordsman would—"

  He took a step closer to her. "You should get to know your friends better, Oracle. If you knew half of what he's done you might not be so forgiving."

  She swallowed at his tone and the darkness reflected in his eyes. He flexed his fingers, causing her to summon more fire into her hands.

  "I don't care—"

  He burst into motion. On instinct she leapt higher into the air and launched fire at him. It burst across his frame. He ignored it, and didn't seem to care that his skin was scorched and blistered. Without slowing he bounced off a lower branch and leapt high. She dodged, and jerked to the side, keeping her eyes on her opponent—

  —the blow came from behind, striking her in the back like a wrecking ball. It swatted her from the sky and sent her crashing to the dirt. Dizzy, she gathered enough magic that she didn't break anything, and struggled to rise. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the whip of dirt coil menacingly, ready to strike again.

  Rook landed beside her, causing her to scramble away from him. She brought a shield of fire up, but he strode through, accepting the expanding burns without so much as a grimace. Knowing the rope of dirt was behind her, she tried to escape into the sky. Feinting to the side, she leapt upward.

  The dirt whip caught her before she'd gone five feet, and wrapped around her torso. Before she could move it tightened over her mouth. It then lowered her to face Rook, who regarded her struggling form with amusement.

  "I thought you'd be more of a challenge," he said.

  His secret service suit was shredded from the fire attacks, and his skin was blistered. Black burns streaked his face, neck and arms, and she could smell the scorched flesh as he approached. He paused a foot from her face. Closing his eyes, he drew a long breath. Black, cracked skin faded to red, and then pink. His blisters were absorbed back into the flesh, and even his hair regrew. In seconds he was whole.

  "Better," he said as he opened his eyes.

  Fear assailed her, and she used every ounce of her gravity magic to burst her bonds. They snapped in an instant and she darted free. Rook's expression changed to surprise, but she'd already shifted to offensive.

  Roots from the neighboring trees climbed from the ground and reached for Rook. He leaned to the side and a wave of dirt carried him away. Then he banked like a surfer and sped toward her. She cast a shadowing spell and the light filtering into the clearing bent away, plunging them into darkness. Then she shifted to her magesight and used it to see. She lifted into the air and glided behind a tree, putting more distance between them.

  Rook blinked to recover, and issued a rumbling chuckle as he scanned the darkness. "Clever girl."

  Tess cast an echo charm to respond, and her voice answered from the opposite side of the clearing. "Why side with the Harbingers?"

  Rook swiveled in that direction, but did not take the bait. "Let's just say I like picking the winning team."

  Tess leaned out and cast a fire trap spell. Then another. One by one she placed the traps around the clearing until Rook was surrounded.

  "Then you don't know what you are up against," Tess answered through her charm. Then she lit them.

  Her shadowing charm disintegrated as the inferno ring erupted, bathing the clearing in searing white light. Rook grinned as the fire climbed above, cutting off his escape. Then the ground opened up beneath him and he dropped from view. Stunned, Tess leaned out to search for him. Then she heard the scraping of dirt behind her.

  "Neither do you," Rook said as she whirled to face him.

  Rook caught her arm before she could attack. Nausea and weakness exploded through her, causing her to collapse and grasp her gut.

  He knelt beside her shivering side. "Healing magic is so often dismissed as less important, and yet for all its lack of flash it has a darker side that few care to learn. You see, a healer can cause disease as much as cure it."

  Anger surged through her, but the burgeoning weakness siphoned it away. She fought back, and willed the tree at her back into motion. The trunk softened—and then bent down to strike at Rook. He avoided the crushing blow by inches, but was forced to retreat. The trunk then wrapped around Tess and moved her into the clearing, but shuddered and wilted. The bark turned a sickly green and it couldn't hold her. She stumbled and dived away as the tree groaned and collapsed. The ground shook when it struck. Branches snapped off and a cloud of leaves was knocked loose. Through the curtain of falling debris Rook stalked toward her.

  "You should be grateful I wasn't paid to kill you, Oracle. I make a point not to kill for free." The ground swelled and carried him close. Before she could react he leaned in and ran a finger down her cheek, causing her to gag as her stomach revolted. "A pity," he said. "I would have liked to kill one so prestigious as yourself. You are much stronger than I anticipated, and you would add to my tally."

  Magic and determination kept her from vomiting, but she had little strength to do anything else. Helpless, she forced herself to look into his eyes. Gathering her magic, she detonated a wind bomb between them and they slid apart. Then she forced herself to her feet. The defiance caused him to laugh.

  "Perhaps I should ask your dear mother if you have been enough of a nuisance."

  Sudden rage gave her the strength to speak. "She's not my mother!"

  He smirked, but turned as the sounds of pursuit echoed from the direction of the White House. Sighing, he turned back to Tess—and barely managed to block the blow from the fist of earth. Hardened and larger than his head, it slammed into his hasty groundshield. He slid back several feet, giving her a chance to fight the weakness curses. Instead of retaliating, he retreated further.

  "I'm afraid that's my cue. I look forward to finishing our . . . conversation . . . later. But just so you know what you face, I'll leave you a memento."

  He lifted his fingers, and five fire blades appeared from his finger ti
ps. In a gesture of dismissal, he sent the sizzling knives at her form. She dodged, but screamed as one found her arm. The blade turned a sallow yellow and sank into her skin. She forced herself to face him, but he clenched his fists and hit them together. A hole opened beneath him and he disappeared into the earth. His quiet chuckle echoed before the ground solidified in his wake.

  Chapter 4: Ultimatum

  Within a minute a crowd of soldiers, police officers, and secret service stormed the clearing. By then Tess had mostly recovered. She'd recognized the weakness spells that Rook had done, but her skill in that magic had been insufficient to stop them. Still weak and shivering, she held her ground as Agent Pierce approached her.

  "He got away?"

  She nodded, trying not to grimace. "At least I learned who he is. He's a mage assassin named Rook."

  He glanced at the many within earshot. "Let's get back, first."

  She nodded, and followed him back to the White House. In the few minutes she'd been gone a swarm of soldiers had surrounded the place. Squads of cops in body armor were setting up mobile stations, and other officers were sweeping the grounds. The difference from before her entry to the White House was so stark that she hesitated.

  Noticing her reaction, Agent Pierce said, "We didn't want to take any chances."

  "It won't do any good," she said with a sigh. "Not against someone like him."

  "I know," Pierce replied.

  The anger in his voice was surprising, especially since it was directed at himself.

  "You couldn't have known . . . " Tess began.

  Pierce whirled to face her, but his tone came out in a low hiss. "It's my job to know, Oracle."

  Her eyes widened in recognition. "You're a mage."

  "I'm with the Auren Security Squad," Pierce said in an undertone. "It's my job to make sure no magical threats reach the president."

  "How many mages protect him?" Tess asked.

  "Three teams of four," Pierce replied. "The president has no idea."

  They were confronted by two heavily armed soldiers, and Pierce threw her a warning glance that kept her quiet. He then flashed a badge and escorted her through. Once they were past the guards she continued.