by Jak Koke
"Prepare for alarms from here on out," she said.
"Yes, but let's try to take them out quietly."
"Agreed," Axler said. "Everyone ready? On three, two, one . . . Go!"
Ryan and Axler stepped around the corner, Axler unloading with her Cascade. The DMSO-laced chemical sprayed over the two elves before they could react. Ryan delayed his strike until he saw their reaction. One crumbled immediately. The other reached for his gun, his reactions obviously chipped.
Ryan focused his magic to knock the man's hand away, and unleashed his distance strike. The elf's hand jerked back, hitting the door behind him. Then the chemical took effect and he fell, slumping on top of his companion.
Time clicked into slow motion as Ryan ran for the double doors, moving at his fastest speed. The doors were made of plate steel and would be difficult to blast through. Better to get inside before any alarms sounded. He slotted the dog shaman's ID stick into the lock and punched in the code, hoping she had access.
Sure enough, the maglock solenoid clicked back the bolt and opened the doors. Must be my lucky day, he thought. And he found memories of Nadja coming back. And he recalled what Dunkelzahn had said about them being connected somehow. Can't think about that, he told himself. Not now. Not until this is all over.
Then they passed through, closing the doors behind them. Axler and Grind dragged the bodies of the guards inside. Now it was only a matter of minutes, at most, before the alarms went off and they were confronted with a huge number of those guards.
The corridor beyond the double doors was about twenty meters long, with two doors, presumably leading to the laboratories, on either side. The doors were metal with narrow windows of clear plexan. At the end, the hall widened into a small lounge area with vending machines and chairs. Huge windows looked down on the river.
Lethe led Ryan to the last door on the left. Once more, the dog shaman's card and code unlocked it, and Ryan was about to step through when McFaren put out his hand. "Wait," he said. "There's a ward on this whole room, and it's not like anything I've ever seen. It's loaded with spells, and all of them anchored. It looks like if anything triggered it, the ward would go off like a fragging mana bomb. And the damn thing would probably kill or wound any living thing that got too close to it. Very tricky."
It sounded tricky to Ryan. Not to mention dangerous. "Can you break it?" he asked.
McFaren turned to examine the ward. Ryan watched in the astral as the mage's aura detached from his physical body to circle around the glassy blue shine of the ward. After almost a minute, McFaren's astral form rejoined his meat body and he looked at Ryan in the physical world, shaking his head slowly back and forth. "This is very advanced magic," he said. "I might be able to punch a hole in the ward, but it'll probably explode and kill us all."
"Jane, any ideas?"
Jane's voice was curt, "What about Lethe?" Ryan looked at the spirit. "Can you get us inside?"
"I think so," Lethe said. "But I can't be sure the ward won't explode."
"What if you help McFaren?"
"It's worth a try."
"Let's do it," McFaren said. "We don't have much time."
McFaren sat down with his back against the wall, then his body went lax as his astral form rose from it. Ryan watched as McFaren and Lethe constructed magic designed to weaken the reflective blue. He saw wisps of energy obscure the ward's shine, then bend the surface until slowly but surely the ward warped around the entrance to the lab.
This was pretty elaborate magical protection, he knew. The Dragon Heart must be extremely valuable to warrant it.
Two long minutes ticked away as they waited for Lethe and McFaren to finish. Finally, Jane's voice came over the radio in Ryan's ear. "Silent alarms are sounding," she said. "How close are you?"
"How much longer?" Ryan asked McFaren.
"We're almost done," McFaren said. "I can't believe it, but we're almost through. Think of it as defusing a bomb. Can't rush it or . . . Kaboom!"
"Did you get that, Jane?"
"Yes," she said. "And you've got three minutes to abort. Repeat, three minutes to abort."
"Copy that. Three minutes."
Twenty seconds later, they were through. McFaren's meat body was still slumped on the floor, with Grind standing over him. Ryan passed through the door and into the room beyond. It was a large space with tables and benches adorned with carvings of arcane symbols. Tiny sculptures and feathers and bones lay strewn on every surface. Books and tomes, both ancient and new, jammed floor-to-ceiling shelves on all four walls.
A slow blinking red light showed that the internal security camera was on and watching. But Ryan didn't have time for stealth or to mask his heat signature. He scanned the room. "Where is it?" he said. "Where the frag is it?"
It was Lethe who answered. "I can sense it, but it isn't out in the open. It's inside a small chamber under one of the benches."
"Small chamber? You mean a safe?"
"What is a safe?"
"A small chamber with thick metal walls, and—"
"Yes, that is it."
"Fragging great," Ryan said.
"This is a good thing?"
"No, I'm being sarcastic. You know what sarcasm is?"
"No."
"Never mind. I'll explain it later. If we make it out of here alive."
Ryan found the safe set into the far wall. It wasn't large, but it did have a complicated electronic lock. He hoped Jane could open it. Axler handed him the remote box again.
"Jane?" Ryan said. "You ready?"
"Jack me in," she said.
He snugged the datacord into the lock and waited.
"We've got company!" came Grind's voice from his position outside the room, where he was watching over McFaren's body. "Wait a minute. They're gone."
"What?"
"A whole drekload of fire elementals. They manifested and were about to fry me. Then they just disappeared."
"Thank Lethe," Ryan said. "He must've done it."
"I'm in," Jane said. "Open the door."
Ryan pulled down on the steel handle and found that the door opened easily. He looked inside and saw the Dragon Heart sitting on a bottom shelf surrounded by small items of talismana—bits of jewelry, gemstones, and small carvings. The item was larger than he'd expected, three or four times the size of a human heart and made of a dull gold metal that he recognized immediately. Orichalcum, a magical blend of all true elements. The heart shone like a small sun of white gold in the astral, and the experience of it moved Ryan deeply. It reached into his spirit and triggered something.
I must have it, he thought. It's mine. I know that now. Dunkelzahn meant for me to have it all along.
Ryan knew on some level that the safe was warded, but he couldn't stop his hand. He couldn't wait, but reached out to seize the Dragon Heart.
"No, Ryan—" Axler's cry was too late.
As Ryan's hand penetrated the plane of the circle inscribed by the talismana, he broke the ward. Fire raced up his arm like napalm as his fingers closed around the Dragon Heart. The flames spread up his arm and over his body, engulfing him in a white-hot fire that seared into his flesh.
Pain shot through Ryan as the flesh of his arm was flayed to the bone by the fire. His whole body crackled on the verge of explosion, his flesh on the brink of detonation, of being blown apart into tiny chunks of bone, blood, and sinew, each bit consumed by the magical fire.
This is it, he thought. This is the end.
Abruptly, Axler crashed into him, sending his body sprawling away from the safe and out onto the floor. For an absurd moment he stared at his blackened and withered arm, smelled the overpowering aroma of burned flesh, and he saw that the bones of his hand still clutched the Dragon Heart.
I've got it!
Ryan tried to channel away the pain, but it was too great. The damage too extensive.
A surge of power passed through him just then. Adrenaline? Magic? The pain gave way to the euphoria of the transcendence that he f
elt. Like he was dying. His spirit was rising from his body. He was growing wings. He was changing. The Dragon Heart.
The power came simultaneously from within him and from the Heart; it healed him completely. His pain was gone. His fatigue was washed away, and his injury—his burns—regenerated in a flood of magic.
Ryan leaped to his feet and crossed the short distance to Axler. "Let's go," he said.
"Wha . . . What just happened?" she asked. "I thought you were dead."
Ryan shrugged. "The Dragon Heart," he said as if that was the best explanation he could come up with.
"Are you two done jacking around?" Grind called from the hall. "I told you we've got company."
"We're coming," Axler said. Then gave Ryan a questioning look.
Ryan felt a rush of energy from the Heart, and he reluctantly stashed it in the nylon web bag on his belt. Then he was behind Axler, who seemed to be moving slower now. There was a loud crash as they came into the hall.
The metal doors bowed out for a second before rattling back into place. "Jane scrambled the codes, locked them out," said Grind. "But it won't hold for long."
"Jane," Ryan subvocalized. "We've got the Dragon Heart. Let's get out of here."
"Copy," came Jane's synthesized voice. "Stand by for escape plan."
Another explosion rocked the building, and as Ryan spun toward the end of the hall, the big metal doors twisted off their hinges with an ear-splitting shriek. A roiling cloud of flame and smoke billowed through the mangled doors and into the hall.
"Jane," Axler said, "you got a scan of the opposition?"
"Not complete. Best guess is a cadre of Mystic Crusaders."
Grind picked up McFaren's limp meat body and rushed into the lounge area, followed closely by Ryan and Axler. Had to get out of any line of fire.
"A cadre?"
"Twenty. Well-armed. Well-trained."
As if on cue, five warriors in military-grade armor stepped through the smoke. They wore helmets with integrated gas masks and power-assisted strength. The first three carried shoulder-mounted gyros with attached miniguns floating in their hands like alien wasp stingers. The miniguns whirred and fired. A screaming hail of bullets ripped up the hallway, shredding the sheet rock, chewing up the floor, blowing fist-sized holes in the lounge windows.
"We're in serious drek, Jane!" Axler screamed. "Get us the frag out of here now!"
38
In her chamber of the San Marcos teocalli, Lucero stared at her naked body reflected in the full-length mirror. She used to be beautiful, before the scarring. Before her addiction to the blood, her slavery to the dark stain on her soul.
Her head was bald, dark brown skin shaved smooth. The shape of her skull was delicate and pretty, like an egg. Her face was unmarred as well. Large eyes the color of worn leather, faded from time but resilient and strong. Her narrow nose was delicate and her mouth full.
Below the neck, however, her brown skin was a tapestry of scars. Deep-etched runes, like embossed tattoos bled of their ink. They covered her arms and shoulders, her breasts and stomach, back and buttocks, thighs and legs. Such mutilation was a hideous and unnatural thing.
For the briefest of moments, she could see the woman she had been before Oscuro had found new uses for her. She could see the bright, intelligent eyes, the smooth, young skin stretched tight across her stomach. Unblemished and supple. She could feel what it had been like to sense the delicate touch of a man or a woman. To be desired.
The moment passed—a cloud across the sun.
A temple servant poked her head through the doorway. "Senior Oscuro is ready for you," she said.
Lucero turned. She would go to Oscuro, the dark man with the black soul, so dark that his aura was a confusion of blank patches. She would go to him and let him tempt her with the blood, and she would do this for one reason alone. She wanted to return to the place of light and beautiful song. He would send her there again, and perhaps she would get to stay this time.
She knew deep down that Oscuro wanted to destroy that place, or change it so fundamentally that its beauty was ruined, but she could not stop that. She could only obey and hope that the goddess of the song would prevail, that the music would wash away the taint of Lucero's blood.
She followed the servants into the sanctuary as before, and as before, Señor Oscuro waited at the altar for her to arrive. She said a silent prayer to Quetzalcoatl as she passed his sculpture, asking to be free of her addiction. To be beautiful again before she died. For she knew that she would be vulnerable to the blood that Oscuro would use. She would shudder with want for its taste, and without help, she would succumb.
Oscuro escorted her up onto the altar, and bade her lie down. Lucero heard the chant of the Gestalt then, and remembered that the blood mages were conducting a ritual at the apex of the temple. They were assembled to add to her power. After having been part of them for so long, it felt strange to have the group so close now, and yet not be able to join them.
She knew what they looked like, ten humans in ceremonial robes, sitting in a circle. Their skin, like hers, was marred with runic scars where they had cut themselves to power the blood magic. And as they sat and chanted, connected by physical tubing that allowed the blood to circulate from one to another through the whole Gestalt, the blood mages coalesced into one astral entity. One magical creature that held the sum of their combined power.
Part of Lucero still longed for the days when her blood became one with the Gestalt entity. Part of her still yearned for that power. But the Gestalt Blood Mages did not know of the song; they did not share in the beauty of the light. Perhaps they were too deeply scarred to see beauty anymore.
The chanting increased in volume as she lay on the stone altar. The rhythmic voices grew in volume as she entered the trance. As she fell into the dark embrace, the abyss of Oscuro's spell.
When she opened her eyes, she was assaulted by the beauty. Confronted by the wonderful brightness that radiated from the goddess. The song filled Lucero with its splendor, washing through every pore of her mangled skin to replenish her beauty. She felt young and clean.
But the light could not penetrate the blackened spot in her heart. She wanted it to fill the bottomless well of her taint, but it could not. And soon she felt the power of the Blood Mage ritual within her, and the additional mana of the huge obsidian stone. The Locus, not yet fully active.
The stain within her grew, spreading like an infection against the pure white. Like a pestilence over pristine land. Soon Lucero could see her feet on the hard, cracked stone. The light retreated a few meters around her as the blood strength coursed through her. She was strong again, a part of a greater whole.
She hadn't felt that way since she'd lost her power and was exiled from the Gestalt. Now she was one of them again—the focus of their power.
The darkness kept growing and growing until Lucero found that she could move inside the black circle. She heard the perverted cries and moans of the creatures who were frozen across the chasm by the song. They longed for Lucero to succeed; they wanted the goddess rent limb from torso. The dark part of Lucero understood their desires.
Suddenly, Señor Oscuro appeared in her circle, standing next to her with his hand over his eyes, shielding them from the light. The widening darkness allowed him the space to come across himself. Oscuro grimaced in pain from the sound of the exquisite music, even though it was muffled and weak at the center of the black circle.
He muttered something and an acolyte appeared—a boy of about thirteen. Oscuro drew a ceremonial sword of obsidian black—a macauitl. The acolyte stood stunned, hypnotized by magic. Oscuro swung the sword, making a clean cut through the boy's neck. The boy's head fell to the ground, and blood gushed from the severed neck, spraying the ground with its ichor as the body bent and doubled over.
Lucero watch in fascination as Oscuro dragged the boy by his feet, marking out a circle with his blood. The song dulled more as the circle of blood was reinforced with that of t
wo other acolytes. Until Lucero could barely hear it from where she stood in the center of the dark stain.
She felt herself crying. She was destroying beauty, possibly the very essence of goodness. She was scarring the earth beneath her feet just as she had scarred her own flesh. Just as she had marred her own beauty. It was already too late for her, she knew that now. And soon, if Oscuro got his wish, it would be too late for the rest of the world.
39
Ryan crouched around the corner at the end of the hall as bullets ripped up the wall across the room and shattered the windows on his left. The sound was deafening, like a constant bludgeoning rain of stones. Smoke and debris filled the room, making it hard to see.
Ryan felt the overwhelming power of the Dragon Heart pulsing through him. It had healed his fire-withered arm and had made him stronger and faster. Enhancing his physical adept abilities. He wanted to take on the whole army. He felt invulnerable, though his mind knew that not to be true. The Silent Way taught that stealth was always the best option, but when it failed, Ryan turned to strategy and strength.
Escape was the best strategy right now. But the one exit was blocked by certain death at the hands of the Mystic Crusaders. What was taking Jane so fragging long? Suddenly, tear gas grenades hit the floor and bounced near Ryan and Axler.
An androgynous voice bellowed from amplified speakers. "Cast your weapons down and surrender," it said. "You have ten seconds to comply."
Jane came on the line. "Stay out of the hall!" she yelled through his earphone.
"No drek," Axler called. "They've got miniguns."
"Dhin is about to—"
Ryan saw it—out the window that overlooked the arboretum and the river, the helo in a steady hover, sinking down like an elevator from the floor above. Took some excellent flying to keep it that close to the wall without the blades hitting the concrete.
Ryan leaped out of the way as the circular barrel of the helo's autocannon swung toward them. Axler and Grind pulled McFaren's limp body into a near corner. In the astral, it seemed as though McFaren and Lethe were still working to close the hole they'd made in the ward that protected the research lab. Ryan didn't understand exactly what they were doing astrally, but he knew they needed to be delicate to prevent an explosion by the ward's powerful mana.