by M. S. Farzan
“Down, Buster!” a voice called from within the bar. A woman stuck her head out into the alley, her frizzy hair looking like an angry octopus in the darkness.
“Tribe, that you?” she said, reaching out a hand to tug on the wolf’s scruff. The hound reluctantly responded to her touch, easing off of Tribe and sitting at the woman’s feet.
The woman stepped into the alleyway, helping Tribe to his feet. “The hell, man? How many times do I have to tell you to let me know when you’re coming?”
“Sorry,” the auric said, dusting himself off. “When’s he going to stop doing that?”
I stood unnoticed, watching the exchange. The woman cut a slender but muscular figure in the gloom, her strong arms exposed under a faded black jersey.
I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Nice to see you, Alina.”
The Pitcher looked up at me, startled, then nodded. “Nightpath.”
She turned back to Tribe and ushered him into the building. “What did you do to your face?”
The auric stuck a thumb out in my direction as he ducked inside. Alina glowered at me again and then down at the wolf, who was waiting patiently.
“Great guard dog you are,” she said spitefully.
He wagged his tail happily in response. I’ve always been good with dogs.
I followed the half-auric and her wolf companion into the room, a small service area with neatly stacked plates, tankards, and silverware. She closed the door behind us and led me into the sports bar proper, a sprawling, open space with several wooden tables and chairs positioned strategically around augmented reality display monitors. An L-shaped bar hugged the far corner of the room, wiped impeccably clean and gleaming under a few overhead lights. I marveled at the wall space, which was crowded with memorabilia, signed jerseys, and team flags.
“Nice place,” I said stupidly.
The Pitcher ignored me and ushered Tribe to the bar, stepping behind it to grab a couple of glasses. The wolf wandered into a spot near a small standing fan and plopped himself down, licking himself contentedly.
“Rum and coke?” Alina asked the auric, rummaging behind the counter.
“Please,” he said, picking at his jaw.
“Nightpath?” her muffled voice echoed from behind the bar.
“Double scotch, no ice,” I called back to her, reading an inscription on a signed photo of Alina posing in her Giants uniform with the previous city mayor. To Alina, it read, for giving all of us an example to follow. I wondered what he thought of her now that she was on the other side of the political fence.
The half-auric reappeared behind the bar, expertly mixing a drink for each of us. I walked over and sat down at one of the cushioned stools, grabbing a handful of mixed pretzels and nuts, suddenly starving. Tribe gingerly lifted his drink to his mouth, trying to figure out how to drink it around his swollen tongue.
“I didn’t realize how badly you were hurt,” she said, eyeing me accusingly.
I put my hand up in resignation and took a sip of the scotch, following it with some of the pretzels. The mix of peat and salt tasted incredible, and I could feel my body relax a bit.
“Here,” Alina said, taking the drink from Tribe’s hand and reaching behind the bar again. She pulled out a pure ceridium crystal, dropping it into an empty glass and grinding it into dust with a spoon. Emptying the cup’s contents into a calloused palm, she spoke several words in an earthy language that sounded like autumn leaves rustling. She cupped Tribe’s chin in her free hand, drizzling the dust over his jaw and face.
The auric’s normally swarthy visage pulsed with an azure light as the magic took effect. The glow subsided after several seconds, but his face retained a youthful, rested look to it.
“Thanks,” he said, throwing back his drink.
Alina glanced at my forehead, pointing. “You want me to look at that?”
“I’ll be alright,” I said, then raised an eyebrow at her wryly. “Pitcher, barkeep, and terramancer?”
“What, I can’t have a hobby?”
I raised my hands again in submission, but made a mental note to do some research about where she learned magic, and from whom.
“What’s the sitch?” she said abruptly, changing the subject. “It’s not often that I get one A.M. visits from government turncoats.”
I ignored the barb and took another sip of scotch. “Someone tried to kill me,” I said plainly.
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
I related the story of the evening’s events, leaving out the specifics of my mission briefing but revealing enough information to let her know my suspicions of the faulty intel and my reluctance to return to the NIGHT headquarters. I finished by explaining how the North Beach jobs went off without a hitch, and that I was off the grid because of Madge’s warning.
The half-auric took it all in silently, sipping a clear liquid through a straw. When I completed my story, she looked off in the distance for a few minutes, thinking. I waited patiently, swirling the glass in my hand and trying not to stare at her. Even in the bar light, her brown mane shimmered, tumbling down her strong shoulders and framing her pale face. The tips of her softly pointed ears peeked out beneath the nest of curls, and a splash of freckles across her small nose made her face look a little playful.
I coughed politely and busied myself looking at the wall decorations. Tribe went around the bar and started mixing himself another drink, and Buster snored softly nearby, having put himself to sleep.
“What do you want from me?” Alina asked finally, turning her piercing blue eyes on me.
I motioned towards Tribe. “This one thinks you can help me find someone who can hack into the NIGHT HQ’s mainframe.”
“How is that going to help?”
I took another swig of scotch. “I’m a hundred percent certain tonight wasn’t supposed to go down the way it did, and about seventy percent sure it was an inside job.” My mouth burned a little from the alcohol, but I could feel my body warm to it comfortingly. “The place was supposed to have been deserted, with a minor incendiary that should have gone off thirteen minutes later.”
The Pitcher nodded, sipping softly at her drink.
“My supplied passcode was incorrect,” I continued, “and that bomb could have taken out a whole block without the shadow shield attached to it. Whoever set up the job either didn’t know about the ragers or didn’t care about killing all of them, and the whole street with them.”
I finished off the scotch, popping a few more pretzels in my mouth. “More importantly, they knew when I was going to be there, and made every effort to make sure I was caught in that blast. It’s only because of the thief,” I pointed at Tribe again, “that we all made it out of there alive.”
The auric, who had been listening absently, perked up at that, saluting me ridiculously with his drink.
“There are only two groups who would have access to my mission intel. Any of the revolutionary informants’ lives would be forfeit if they provided false information. The NIGHTs would either give them up to the auric king for his own judgment on their betrayal, or otherwise have them taken care of.”
I set down the glass quietly, allowing the information to sink in.
“That leaves-”
“The NIGHTs themselves,” Alina finished my sentence.
I nodded, sitting back in the stool and crossing my arms.
“Piss,” Tribe said perfunctorily.
“So,” I said, “I need someone who can hack into the NIGHT mainframe and get me more information about the botched briefing. I have my lens recording of the whole thing, and audio of my conversation with Striker, but he’s a cog in the machine. I have a pretty good idea of who sent the order, but I need proof before I can take it national.”
The Pitcher sat in thought, twirling her finger through an unruly curl. It was almost rust-colored in the soft light.
“Gloric Vunderfel,” she said eventually.
“Is that a name?”
Alina nodded
.
“Never heard of him,” I complained.
“Why would you?” she retorted.
“The technomancer!” Tribe chimed in.
I felt my brow furrow in confusion. “Technomancy? Is that a thing?”
Both of them looked at me as though I had asked if the earth really does go around the sun. I’m not used to being uninformed.
“How do we find him?” I asked, swallowing my pride.
“Easy,” the Pitcher replied, reaching into a pocket for her digitab. “I’ve got him on speed dial.”
Before she could use the device, Buster jumped up from his place in the corner, growling menacingly at the street. The three of us started, turning as one to face the large windows.
It was difficult to see out into the dark street outside, but I could make out ten or more shadowy figures, obscured in the night and approaching They Might Be Giant. Soft blue lights swayed as they moved, the only visible signs of their ceridium weapons.
“Down!” I yelled, trusting the others had seen the hit squad as well, or would at least listen to my command. I dove behind a nearby table and threw my body against it to uproot it in front of me. I could hear a crash of glasses behind me as Alina and Tribe flattened themselves against the bar.
The shadows opened fire on the sports bar. Silent ceridium bullets pelted through the establishment’s windows like horizontal rain, making ugly sounds as they lodged into the tables and walls. Glass shattered as the projectiles hit tankards and framed pictures, and several cobalt bullets streaked by me and thudded into the heavy table.
I produced a capsule from my coat and unsheathed my pistol, feeling the adrenaline course through me and trying to remain calm. I waited for the silence that would follow the volley as they reloaded their weapons, but it didn’t come. Through the cacophony of impact I could hear muffled sounds of glass breaking at the front of the building as several of the assailants burst through the windows under cover fire.
“Now!” I yelled, hoping the others could hear me.
I rolled out from behind the table, riding the adrenaline but not letting it take over my reflexes. I fired on instinct where I had previously heard movement, and my aim was true, taking an auric in the face with a ceridium bullet of my own. He spun backwards through the window and into the street. I continued my roll as a goblin-sized auric adjacent to the first fired at me. Dodging the projectile, I crushed the capsule and called out a word as I came into a crouch. I leveled my hand at the little man, sending a bolt of shadow towards him. It hit him in the chest, lifting him ass over teakettle through the window.
There was a brief reprieve as the cover fire squad exhausted their ammo and reloaded their weapons. I scrambled behind a metal case that held various trophies and awards, switching my pistol to my left hand and reaching for the hilt of my nightblade. I could hear glass crunching and wood scraping against the floor as the hit squad made their way into the room.
Alina slid from her position behind the bar, coming out of a windup and hurling a tankard end-over-end towards an advancing auric. The projectile hit him in the cheek like a wrecking ball, leaving him sprawling over a table. The assassin nearest to him fired on the Pitcher, but she spun like a dancer, feeding another glass from her left hand into her right. She came out of her turn and sent it towards him, but he lifted his gun in time to deflect it.
It didn’t matter. A dark shape streaked towards him, fur and claws and death. Buster leapt from the hiding place he had stalked to, tearing at the auric mercilessly with his teeth and hind paws. I wouldn’t have made it very far in my line of work being squeamish, but I still blanched a little at the sound.
Having reloaded, the hit squad opened fire again, forcing Alina to duck back behind the bar. I wondered where Tribe had gotten himself to, then heard faint chanting from the side of the room. I peeked around the cabinet, and could make out the telltale signs of a spell in the works. A little auric caster was moving his arms wildly, embers sparkling at his fingertips.
“Pyromancer!” I yelled a warning at my compatriots. A fire spell among the wooden furniture of the sports bar would have the effect of a grenade in a pile of kindling.
I needn’t have worried. Tribe detached himself from the wall nearest to the caster, putting his hand on the gnome’s mouth and cutting of the spell. The thief withdrew a knife from some hidden place on his body, thrusting it in between the pyromancer’s neck and shoulder. The assassin convulsed as Tribe pulled away, melting back into the shadows.
I didn’t have much time to consider my next move, as a loud crash came from the service area nearby. I had completely forgotten about the side entrance, and almost paid for it with my life. I turned around just as a hulking auric shouldered his way into the main bar area, taking most of the wall with him and collapsing the room into rubble as he came around the service area’s small doorway. He noticed me immediately, swiping a giant hand at my face.
I dropped to the floor, feeling the fist fly over my head and crunch into the metal cabinet behind me. I dove between the troll’s legs and turned, drawing the nightblade out in front of me. The sword extended as it cleared the little sheath, ratcheting into place with a hum into its full size. A thin line of ceridium ran the length of the slightly curved blade, glowing faintly in the darkness.
The auric was more nimble than he had any right to be, backing out of the way of my draw and parrying it with a dagger the size of a baseball bat. He lashed at me again with his free hand, and I sidestepped out of his reach, being careful to keep his massive form in between myself and the firefight. I could see the others out of the corner of my eye, engaging more assassins coming through the windows.
I leveled my pistol at the troll and fired from point blank range, but he swept the long dagger in front of his body as I pulled the trigger, knocking the weapon from my hand and spoiling my shot. I let the pistol fall and gripped my nightblade’s hilt with two hands, driving it towards his sizeable midsection. The motion was too quick for the brute to parry, and he smacked at the blade with his bare hand, slicing off two fingers the size of sausages. He grunted but advanced towards me, swinging his horned head and slashing wildly with his dirk. I moved to catch the dagger on my nightblade, then shifted my weight to bring the sword in a diagonal slash. The troll’s arm and dagger fell to the floor.
He howled but leapt towards me, adrenaline and Oxidium lending him a partial immunity to the pain. He hooked at me with a three-fingered hand, punching me in the ear painfully. I moved with the strike to lessen the impact, using the momentum to spin away from him. I reversed the grip on my nightblade, thrusting it behind me and into his heart. Feeling his dead weight catch on the blade, I pulled it away and let the troll fall.
I turned back towards the front of the bar, and a nightmare sprang through one of the broken windows. Tribe, Alina, and the wolf were still fending off the attackers, oblivious to the peril that pursued them. I tried to call out, but an unfamiliar sensation stayed my tongue.
He was in most ways nondescript, an average auric with skin the color of ash. His short hair was cut close to his round head, accentuating the thin white ears protruding from his skull. Even his piglike snout and tusks were small, almost disappearing against his pale complexion as if uncomfortable with drawing any attention. The only thing remarkable about him was his burgundy leather coat, which gleamed like blood in the low light.
Yet, something about him was unusual, in the way he confidently strode into the bar with single-minded purpose, a hunter unerringly stalking his prey. I could see his eyes glowing crimson in the darkness, and recognized the emotion that had frozen me.
Fear.
He looked in my direction, and nodded once in salute. Then he did the strangest thing I have seen before or since.
The auric put two fingers out to his side, slicing them through the air in an oval shape. With his other hand, he threw a handful of what looked like seeds on the ground in front of him, letting out a sharp, barking whistle through his tusked
mouth.
The result was catastrophic. A gash opened in the air where the seeds had fallen, a tear in the fabric of the universe. From within, a roar could be heard, and the building rumbled in response. The crack widened, and an orange fire began to spill forth.
The auric whistled again, and his underlings immediately disengaged to evacuate. Without another glance, he glided out of the room as smoothly as he had come, disappearing into the night.
The motion was enough to spur me into action. I flicked the nightblade free of blood, scooped up my discarded pistol and sheathed my weapons as I ran over to the others, who were standing bewildered at the attackers’ sudden retreat and the new threat. Bolts of ochre fire began fizzing out of the tear into the room, instantly setting the wooden furniture ablaze.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” I shouted to Alina, trying to shake her from shock. “Is there another exit?”
She looked at me, then at the rubble in front of the side room. Blinking a couple of times, she nodded dumbly, moving towards the back of the room.
A blistering heat began to build from the front of the bar, and I put myself in between it and Tribe as we followed the half-auric. Buster bounded in front of us, knowing the way. Fire arrows continued to sting the room, pelting at the back of my coat. Alina took us to a storage area, dragging away a couple of empty kegs stacked on top of one another.
I could feel the temperature rising as the building burned. Smoke began to fill the room as the place caught on fire, and it took all of my patience not to scream at Alina to hurry it up. She fidgeted with a latch halfway up the wall, opening a hidden door into a small passageway. The wolf immediately jumped through it, followed by Tribe and Alina. I came through it last, hearing one of the building’s rafters collapse behind me.
The night air was like a splash of cold water on my burning lungs. I breathed deeply, hacking the smoke out of my body. I looked around, noticing that the alley was actually just a tiny yard protected on all sides by the adjoining structures. Alina was already unlocking a small gate that led in between two of the buildings, next to invisible from the street. We rushed through the passage in single file, stopping briefly to make sure no one was lying in wait for us outside.