“Please. Continue.”
They started walking down a grim and grey corridor as the terrified subordinate gave a brief account of the events to date. He had a habit of talking very quickly when flustered or panicked, reeling off details and irrelevant facts and often wondering from the subject at hand. “Well sir. He woke up and looked around a bit but wasn’t really moving. Then he threw up a bit-”
“Really?” Gerard seemed overly surprised at this, his anger fading from a moment ago and enjoying the man’s presence.
“Yes sir. Then, I think he passed out briefly before he woke up again and then moved around a bit.” The small man said excitedly at the fake enthusiasm.
“Fascinating Haverforth. Anything else beyond looking around a bit, throwing up a bit, and moving around a bit?” Gerard went to count each item with his fingers but held back.
“Yes sir!” Haverforth said excitedly, not realising the mocking tone of Gerard at the comprehensive report he’d heard so far. “He’s bandaged himself up with a bunch of our tac-team’s gear.” Haverforth’s delivery of this betrayed how he really felt. He was sad at the events from earlier and had got lost in his report, Gerard forgiving the man’s misstep. Gerard’s three Sløv; Fortune, Enyo and Eris, had been following the two men down the corridor when they stopped abruptly as the small grouped reached another door. They stood in silence before Gerard coughed to get Haverforth's attention, who’s task it was to do this sort of thing around a Våpen. He liked the diminutive man so forgave a lot of his foibles and held back from comparing him to his loyal, proactive Sløv companions. He was diligent and produced some of the best written reports he’d seen in his career, but the overly sweaty man lacked a lot of social skills and often missed important details when describing events in person. Gerard nodded towards the handle of the door, eye brows raised expectantly. Recognition appearing on his face, Haverforth jumped at the handle and swung the door open energetically, whilst apologising profusely. A strange dance.
“It’s okay Sean. Thank you for coming to get us.” Gerard offered and the four of them moved past the small man still holding the door to, enter a very grey room. Monitors covered the top third of three of the walls and three Orcs stood at ease, each watching their own wall. The three Orcs were perfectly still with a green filament of vibrant magik coming out of the back of their heads and connecting to the middle of the ceiling. It looked like three cables connecting to a single point, hanging like cobwebs, gently pulsing and reverberating. Casting his eyes around the room Gerard took in what he could. On the left wall were crystal clear pictures of corridors. Some were vacant, some had all manner of being walking through them, but nothing caught his attention. He was fascinated by the men and women who chose this line of work because the cognitive pressures on their brains was known to drive some of them insane. All he knew was that they got paid extremely well and were only required to give five years of their lives to the job, forsaking all family, friends and social interactions during that time.
Of course, as he’d learned in the academy, Orcs had the best biology for the task. The voice of one of his tutors explained that of all the races, they had the largest and most underused, untapped brains. A real cruelty. Some of the smartest and most intelligent folk in history had green blood running through their veins, but the remaining 99% of their race were the opposite. Somewhere down the line, Orc evolution had just stopped, and their ascent stalled, allowing other races to catch up and ultimately overtake them. The current ruling class had tried many things to unlock the hidden potential in their bloodlines, but so far, the only positive result had been surveillance tasks and in particular, this governmental monitoring system. As part of watching, the Orcs studied their designated screens which changed at break-neck speeds and covered multiple locations simultaneously. When they saw something, they reported it to an Eye, who then assigned actions and made further contact with agents in The Protectorate, following the chain of command and logging all interactions in the Network.
Dragging himself away from the lecture and after taking in the spectacle on the left, he reviewed the screens to the right where communal spaces and normal rooms were shown, each of which featured a mix of activities and creatures. All quite inconsequential to Gerard, as it was the wall directly in front of him that he was most interested in. About half the screens were empty rooms, all of varying shape, size, colour and atmosphere. Some replicated normal land conditions whereas a few were reserved for other, more extreme environments; from jungles, to Siberian tundra, from deserts, to underwater ecosystems and a few, for specimens that needed to be kept in space-like voids. All of the screens were switching views too quickly for Gerard, apart from two of them. In the centre of the mass of screens a man sat in a chair, completely naked and bound, with his head bowed. The other screen showed a battle scene with a man lying down in the middle of it, held together by body armour and sheer willpower.
“Interrogation going well Gerard?” Said a ghostly voice. Haverforth squirmed at hearing it but Gerard walked forward to stand next to the Orc staring at his prisoners.
“We will see Parod.” He said impassively, before saying with genuine warmth, “How are you?”
“Why do you ask this every time we speak?” Parod responded with a stony expression. His voice was deep and knowing, stoic and respectful.
Gerard glanced sideways at the Orcs face and saw his two milky, swirling eyes, staring forward without moving. “I am cursed with a curious mind and unparalleled social skills my good friend. I cannot help myself.”
“One day, I fear this will put you in harm’s way Våpen.”
Gerard could have sworn that he saw the side of the Orcs mouth curl up slightly into a smile, before chalking it up to his imagination as the Orc changed the subject.
“The poison is having an odd effect on your guest.” He said matter-of-factly. “He is stronger than you thought, although, it may still be too much for him.”
Interesting, Gerard thought. There wasn’t anything in the Nahgwals file to indicate that he was anything special even though his tac-team had been decimated by him. As far as everyone was concerned, it should have been a regular recruitment. He held his hand out towards Enyo who performed a similar routine to Fortune earlier, moving her hands in practised formations with ease, whilst whispering her own three-part incantation. Gerard took pride in all three of his Sløv being members of The Whispered Night, allowing them to access the magiks unique to that cast. To most of his colleagues’ surprise however, he made sure they knew incantations from the more common magik as well. Most of the Lucids could evoke it, but those who chose a named magik often forgot how to practice it, thinking it beneath them.
“Constant faith, judicial scroll. Truth manifest and measured peace. Form.” With a different flourish of her hands and fingers compared to Fortune’s performance earlier, the lithe woman placed her palms together flatly and swiped them away from each other to reveal an unravelled scroll. Passing the document across to Gerard he reviewed it with great interest. Holding it in his left hand he used his right hand and fingers to manipulate what appeared on the scroll. Various pinches, swipes, circling and flicks showed more or less detail as he explored all the intel they had on the man trapped in the room. It revealed nothing unusual, Gerard’s curiosity being tested. Their prisoner was slightly older than some of their more recent recruits and that was all Gerard could pick out from the file that wasn’t worthy. No family history linking him to powerful lineage, no known associates that would indicate additional powers and no known magikal augments.
“There is something else too, Gerard. I can see something inside him that should not be there.”
“Have you seen anything like it before Parod?”
“No.” He said flatly.
“Even your predecessors?” He said with some surprise. At the end of each Eye’s tenure there would be a ceremony that passed over all previous knowledge and visions to the new mind. Each Orc in that room was a living memory
bank that had been recording data for centuries, so it was extremely rare for them to see something they’d not seen before.
“No. This is new and even though I can see it, it is blocking my sight. It is not letting me understand it.” Some of the flatness had disappeared, his own curiosity being tested.
“Thank you Parod. Can you keep us-” A screeching sound interrupted Gerard mid-flow and purple light emanated from the upper corners of the room. It flashed in alternating patterns and followed the contours of the ceiling, to shine a square, purple light down onto its occupants. The sounds and sight of it were aggressive, specifically designed not to be ignored.
The dense, treacle-like substance contained in Parod’s eyes, which normally moved slowly, if at all, swirled frantically for the briefest moment before he spoke. “There’s been a breach. Sector 37a.” As he finished his sentence a window materialised in front of Parod, slightly to the left of his two primary screens. It grew from a single point of origin in the top left of its final shape, resulting in a three-foot-wide, two-foot-tall translucent object.
“Why are you using the Porträlen, nine and twenty-three?” Parod chastised, speaking directly to two very frantic looking Orcs. The Orc to the left began speaking through the window, with clarity as if he was in the same room as the rest of them. This particular rent in space and time, that had just appeared in front of them was divined from very old and powerful magik. It gave the user the power to instantly communicate and move in between completely disparate parts of the world with ease, a feat The Protectorate hadn’t been able to replicate. Even with help from The Nameless and countless Verktøy researchers on the task, they could never remove the cost associated with this type of magik.
“Protocol sir. There’s been a code breach. Sector 37a.” Orangaar said with fervour. Parod didn’t react, simply waiting for his kin to continue. “Someone used magik in the Naïve world.” The frightened Orc continued.
“That does not require you to contact me in this way, nine.” Parod replied without emotion, using his calm voice to try and dispel the panic he could see in the eyes of Orangaar.
“I know sir. But it was dark magik.” He was scared.
“You should be following a different procedure for this type of violation.”
“Yes sir.” He paused, taking his time to choose his next words carefully. “However, if the violation were; to include a known criminal on our most wanted list, physically alter the Naïve’s world, be witnessed by a Naïve and…” The Orc struggled.
“Continue Orangaar.” Parod said reassuringly.
“And kill a Naïve.” He sputtered out. “Then the protocol is clear. We are to notify an Eye, in person, as soon as possible using the Porträlen.” He paused, forgetting himself. “Sir.”
“Very well nine. You have done the right thing and acted in accordance with our lore. Well done.” He waved his hand in front of the space and a sheet of magik fell over the window. Gerard could still see the Orcs, but there was no sound anymore. The eight of them stood there in silence for a few moments with just the purple light flashing periodically above them.
“Nine and twenty-three will not be able to use the Porträlen again for twelve hours, Gerard.” Parod said, with a slight hesitation in his voice. “Are you able to go to the scene and secure the area? I have notified the nearest Våpen and she is en route. However, it will take her a few hours to get there. Sector 37a is… remote.”
“I’m in the middle of something, Parod. More serious than this code violation.” He thought reflectively for a moment, not wanting to disappoint his friend. “The Nameless have asked me to continue with my investigation without distraction or deviation. They have been very insistent that I get results soon.” He stood there, pensive.
“I understand.” Parod said.
“However.” Gerard exclaimed, turning his whole body to face Parod even though the Orc continued to look forward. “It appears that we have been given an opportunity to get ahead of this. We are lucky that nine and twenty-three are not complete idiots and are playing for our team.” Gerard thought briefly about how their organisation had suffered at the hands of deep corruption for a while now. “We are also incredibly fortunate that the best Våpen in the business happens to be here...” He continued with sarcasm. “… At the very moment you received this communication and, is able to send two very accomplished investigators in his stead.” He motioned towards Enyo and Eris as they took a few steps towards them. Gerard thought he saw the Orcs mouth curl up slightly again as he forged on.
“There’s nothing in my briefing to say that my attendees have to be with me 24/7 in order to complete my task.” Gerard smiled at the thought of what his superiors would say to him sending his blunt instruments on a very delicate errand such as this – another small anarchy. The truth was however, that Fortune, Enyo and Eris weren’t ordinary Sløv, blunt and unimaginative. They all possessed magik and Gerard personally trained them in arts beyond what the regulations stated were required. “You will find Enyo and Eris are more than capable of holding down the fort for a few hours before my colleague arrives. Who is it by the way?” He said offhandedly.
“Våpen Trøst.”
Gerard swallowed thickly at hearing the name before beckoning the sisters towards him. Parod repeated his hand movement from earlier and the translucent sheet that covered the window floated away. The covering glided into an unseen void, embraced by nothingness and he addressed the two confused Orcs who were staring at him.
“Open this window further please twenty-three.” He said with authority. Drülach complied immediately by touching the top-left of the window with a gloved hand and then forming an L-shape with his other, which he dragged down and away from the bottom right corner of the window, expanding it to the size of a door.
“Now, you are to help this Våpen’s attendees in any way you can until support arrives. Do you understand?” Parod said with more authority, making sure the message was understood.
“Yes sir.” The two Orcs echoed back looking very serious.
“Off you go then you two.” Gerard said casually. “I want twenty-minute check-ins for the first hour and then hourly ones after that until Trøst arrives.” He said less casually, her name bringing guilt along for the ride.
“Yes boss.” The sisters said simultaneously and stepped through the door into the room with the two Orcs. Once they were through, Drülach clicked his fingers and the door disappeared with a metallic whooshing noise and a pop. The door left behind a white outline of where it used to be that slowly faded, allowing Gerard’s eyes to adjust. When his vision fully returned he smiled, his anarchies pleasing him and working on his own machinations. The man in body armour on one of the screens had woken up and had started moving.
CHAPTER EIGHT - INTRODUCTIONS
Anne’s eyes began to flutter as she lay there. Her consciousness beginning to wade its way back through the mud of her groggy sleep. An involuntary groan escaped her lips as her eyes opened partially and she took in the room around her. The ceiling was a tapestry of off-colour white and grey polystyrene squares all trussed up against each other neatly. There was a calm order to it, which was comforting and familiar. Satisfied, she moved her head to the right and found that she was looking out of a window with a beautiful view. Even though the ceiling would have driven her mad with its uniformity and drab colours, the rolling hillsides and entire spectrum of greens and browns outside her window made up for it. Thankful for the sight, she noticed a deer prance into view out of the forest line and she found she was smiling to herself. Hello dancing spirit. Where did you come from? As beautiful and as free deer are, when she’d looked at them in the past, she’d never thought to address one with reverence and love before. Thinking it contained a spirit of some kind was also a little disturbing, but then she had just woken up in a strange place, remembering every detail of what happened in the café.
The animal seemed to be looking at her even though she was a long way away and high up in
a building. Hot steam was drifting out of its mouth and nose, and wisps of the same substance were coming from the deer’s flank as well. It was cold, and the deer was breathing hard. Anne could see the rib cage expanding and contracting. She could actually see the beads of sweat forming on fur. How can I see that? She thought, frowning at the deer. Then, as quickly as the thought came, the deer shook its head in response, disappearing back into the forest.
She couldn’t explain why, but she felt like she knew the deer somehow and when it had gone, it left an emptiness behind that made her uncomfortable. Her eyes began to well up without warning as she thought about the deer and what happened in the café, so she tossed her head to the left, hoping to see something that would take her mind off the animal and the creature who smashed her into a brick wall. Sadly, a slow and grey hospital scene was revealed. Plain walls, plain staff, plain papers, plain everything. Sterile and stiff, the place felt suffocating. Machinery she didn’t understand was connected to her and behind that a few nurses were milling about, sometimes glancing over and stealing whispered conversations with their colleagues. Why are they scared?
Looking closer at the white objects connected to her, she noticed lots of tubes running in every direction. Some scurried away into other machines and a few made their way towards her. Before following their paths however, she saw a little matte-black box about five centimetres across in each direction sat on a device she didn’t recognise. Its surfaces were completely smooth and untouched, completely unblemished. It felt evil. Even though it was clearly not a living thing Anne swore it was alive. Her instincts told her that it was something terrible and old that was imposing its will upon her. The item was suffocating her somehow, drowning her from the inside out and in an effort to shake the feelings away, she squirmed, a name repeating itself in her mind. The Barren Sun. Waking up rarely brought clear thinking for Anne, but she knew she’d changed and she was thinking clearly now. She knew she was missing parts of her memory but recalling that name brought with it an unsettling familiarity she wasn’t keen to embellish right now.
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