Shadowborne

by Matthew Callahan

  “So, the Shanghai Tunnels,” Mad said, his thoughts echoing Will’s. His voice was forced, but steady. “They’re supposed to be huge, right?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe there’s a guide or a map or something filed with the city?”

  Madigan barked a laugh. “Yeah, a map that shows an entrance to some goddam mystical other world. Asking for that’ll go over great.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, Will. I just don’t know.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” Will said softly. “You always do.”

  “Thanks,” Mad said, looking over at him. “We’ve just gotta make sure that—Jesus, Will, you’re bleeding all over your cot!”

  Will raised his head and looked down. Mad was right; the gash on his chest had reopened and there were a dozen smaller cuts all over his body that were making a mess of his bedding. “I’m okay. Yours is gonna look just as bad whenever you lie down, I imagine,” Will said and gave a weak smile.

  “Let me find a first aid kit,” Mad said as he began combing through the storage unit. “I’m going to fix you up.”

  Will protested but his brother quieted him, so he settled back on the cot and closed his eyes. His mind immediately drifted to his grandfather, his kind, laughing grandfather. The image was almost immediately replaced by an image of the man in his last moments and Will’s stomach twisted. Gods, what have we gotten ourselves into?

  He curled into a ball and drew the key close to his chest, his grandfather’s final gift to him. His closed eyes burned with the tears he fought against, doing everything in his power not to cry. Clutching the key, a cool, ephemeral blanket swept over him and he snapped his eyes open. It was his Shade. He smiled, wiped away the tears, and looked down at the key in his hand.

  It was still captivating. Its surface glistened through the mess of blood and tears, the hues of purple darkening from their presence. Hypnotic colors and the streams of light that dance along the back of eyelids pulled Will in. Distantly, he realized that his Shade was growing darker, intensifying, concentrating around his hand and the key within.

  The world began to spin and he tried to sit up but a burning pain tore through his body. His eyes felt dry and cold, ancient charcoal within his skull, and all sound left the world. Panic gripped him as he tried to stand, only to fall to the ground as his knees gave out. His head slammed against the metal bed frame as fiery twilight burst into his field of vision. Images raced through his mind too fast and frantic to distinguish. Nothing made sense. Sound returned in a roar, a cacophony of deafening screams and cries.

  Water. He was wading through oily water in an immense cavern. Decayed wooden structures led to a hole in the high ceiling. Something gripped his legs, dragging him below the surface, filth entering his mouth as he sank. His fingers scraped desperately against the rocks as he descended, finally finding purchase on something cold and metallic. Wrenching with all his strength, he pulled himself up till his head broke the surface and he spit out the disgusting water.

  A rusted, circular handle had been his savior, the handle itself secured on a door out of a storybook. Symbols were carved into the ancient black wood while black iron made up its frame. Crude filigree was inlaid along the metalwork and where the door met the rock wall it was covered in scores of deep gouges. Awe replaced fear as Will looked at the rents in the door’s beauty, his eyes finding the light that pushed through from the other side—light like the glow of the full moon. A beautiful voice filled his mind.

  Come, it said.

  “Shit, Will! Come on, man, don’t do this! Shit, shit, come on, man! Come on!”

  Madigan was shouting only inches from his face. Will realized that he was cradled in his brother’s arms. Coughing and sputtering, his eyes focused. They were on the floor. He tried to push myself up. “Mad?” His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, and the taste of the brackish water still clung to his tongue.

  “Shut up, just shut up and breathe, dammit!”

  Mad’s arms held fast and Will took his advice, inhaling deeply and finding it a challenge. For nearly a minute the two of them sat there in silence, Will trying to breathe while Madigan kept him immobilized. Finally, the older boy’s grip slackened and Will pushed himself onto his hands.

  “I’m okay, really,” Will said, feeling unsteady as he tried to climb back onto the cot. “I must have passed out or something. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Passed out?” Madigan said, staring at his brother. The terror on his face turned to anger as he rose to his feet and stared down at Will. “Passed out? The hell you did! Jesus, Will, you scare the shit out of me by screaming bloody murder out of nowhere and then I look up and suddenly you’re spasming out! Then your goddam Shade started ripping the goddam room to shreds! Look at what happened to the goddam bunk!” His hand shot up and pointed to the ceiling.

  If Will hadn’t known it had been a cot, he would have had no idea what he was looking at. The metal framework was peeled apart and embedded into the ceiling, the surrounding walls all scratched and impaled with bits of debris. It had been crushed and crumpled and completely wrapped in on itself. Will was struck by images of the devastation wrought by tornados and the twisted remains they leave in their wake.

  “Then you just up and collapse to the ground and everything stopped.” Madigan’s face was white and he was shaking. “Gods, Will, that was more terrifying than anything else. You’re tearing this place to shreds and then all of a sudden you’re limp as a goddam rag doll on the floor, Shade gone, not one goddam peep out of you. No more spasms and by the time I get to you you’re not even breathing and I can’t do a goddam thing about it. And you try to pass this off by saying you passed out?”

  Will stared at his brother, aghast. He broke off eye contact and scanned the room. He stretched out his bruised legs in front of him and shook his head. He ached everywhere. The spasms wracking his already battered body placed his comfort level somewhere between burning alive and having every inch of his body pummeled by a sledgehammer.

  “You can’t do that, Will,” Mad said, his voice quaking. “I can’t lose… you can’t scare me like that.”

  “Grandda isn’t around to explain this one, Mad,” Will said quietly. The words hung in the air, sounding harsher than Will intended. He was overly conscious of the throbbing of his head and quite desperately wanted his brother to keep his voice down. “I don’t have a good explanation for you. I’m sorry.”

  Madigan’s temper had deflated, his face pale and concerned. “You can’t do that to me. I won’t allow it.”

  “You won’t allow it?” Will said, coughing lightly as he chuckled. His head and heart were both pounding. Madigan was terrified, he knew, but what he’d seen had been so clear—the door, the voice—he had to tell him.

  “Nope.” Madigan shook his head. “Nope, not one bit. You need to get your act together.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Will said with a wry smile. There was a moment of silence as each of them stared at their hands, the day’s events vivid in each of their minds. Will’s eyes began to brim with tears again but he pushed them back. “Listen, Mad. Can I say something that sounds a bit crazy?”

  Madigan stared at him for a moment and then put his head in his hands. “You mean crazier than whatever that shit was?” He sighed. “Sure, Will, go for it.”

  “I think there’s a door in a pool of water that will get us where we’re trying to go.”

  His brother raised his head, blinked at him, and then slowly lowered it back into his hands. “Alright, fine, I’ll bite. Why, Will? Why do you think that?”

  Will hesitated for another moment before responding. “Um, well…”

  “Gods above, Will,” Madigan said. “Did you have a vision or something? Is that what that whole thing was?” Will shrugged and gave a silent, uncomfortable nod. “Did you hear voices too?” Mad went on, still shaking his head. “Did a mystical voice from the heavens set you on the path to your destiny?”

  “Um, actually…”

  Madig
an dropped his hands and looked at his brother incredulously. “You’re joking.”

  Will shook his head then winced at the throbbing pain. The rest of me feels numb, why can’t my head too? He looked at his brother and searched for answers. None came. “What can I say, Mad?” he said in as lighthearted a tone as he could manage. “I guess I’ve got the whole magic package here—visions and voices included.”

  Madigan couldn’t help but give a good-humored snort; he leaned back against the nearby bunk. “Alright, tell me what you saw.”

  Will did. As he spoke, Madigan nodded but didn’t interrupt, letting him tell the whole thing from start to finish to the best of his ability.

  “It’s possible,” Mad said when Will had finished. “Grandda said the entrance was in the Shanghai Tunnels and those go all over by the river. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if there was some sort of underground cavern somewhere. It’ll just be a pain to find it.”

  Will looked at him sidelong. He’s really trying to believe me here. “So, we try the tunnels, then?”

  “We try the tunnels,” Mad said resolutely. “After all, we don’t have anywhere else to go. Whatever happens, though, one thing is clear.” Will stared as his brother’s face grew hard and angry. “Valmont must pay.”

  Will nodded, not trusting himself to speak. It felt like a long shot but at the same time…maybe not. He moved over to the spare bed and sat down to rest, to try and recuperate his strength from the terrible day. Yet the moment he closed his eyes, Mad’s voice brought him right back.

  “You’re still a mess, kid,” he said, walking over with the first aid kit and sitting himself next to his little brother. “Come on, let me get you patched up.”

  9

  The Shanghai Tunnels

  They spent the next three days in a daze. They washed their blood off in the river while it was still night, the frigid water soothing as it numbed their bodies. During the daytime, they remained in the unit, trying to heal their bodies and spirits. Jervin had filled the place with food, water, and clothing and they used what time they had to recuperate.

  Will rarely slept. Whenever he closed his eyes, his grandfather’s grim countenance appeared behind his eyelids. The blood-drained flesh, the gaping hole of his eye, the broken stance from the absent leg, all of it was too gruesome for him to face yet.

  He began to meticulously pack everything away into a corner of his mind, forcing himself to think of something else, anything else, whenever his thoughts began to drift back toward the evening Jervin died. He convinced himself it wasn’t denial. After all, he wasn’t denying what happened, he was simply forcing himself to block it all out. He thought it to be completely logical, a far better method of grieving than having to actually acknowledge the facts, but deep down he knew he was only pushing away the inevitable.

  Madigan spent the majority of each day somewhere between calmly meditating on the floor and organizing supplies. It was unlike him to be so quiet, but Will appreciated his focus on preparing for the journey to come. As such, it was easy for Will to ignore his brother’s nightly disappearances and subsequent return hours later in tattered clothes, covered in dirt and sweat. Will had checked the supply of clothing; they were fine. Mad could ruin as much as he liked for at least a week before he’d have to start being more careful.

  On the fourth day, Will went to the library to do as much research into the tunnels as possible. Most of what he found wasn’t much more than what he already knew from growing up in Portland, but he did find articles about a local enthusiast who made a career of excavating a portion of the tunnels and offering tours. His website even had an online calendar with tour dates and times. Will made a few notes before returning to the unit to fill in Mad.

  The news brought little more than a nod, but over the next few days Mad’s mood changed drastically. He stopped going out at night and taking his frustrations out in whatever fashion he had been. Occasionally a bit of humor began to seep into their halting conversations. Will could feel that something had changed and, while nothing was truly better, it felt good to smile again. The morning of the planned tunnel tour, as they were putting the final touches on their gear, they finally began to talk again in earnest.

  “Having a goal helps,” Madigan said quietly, “a mission of sorts. Something to work toward, I suppose. But with what happened to Grandda and knowing that that thing is out there somewhere, I just haven’t known what to think or do this past week.”

  “I know, Mad, I know,” Will said. “Just, do me a favor—try and be an ass, okay? That usually comes as naturally to you as breathing.”

  Madigan punched his brother in the arm and smiled. The pair shouldered their packs, locked the storeroom, and set out across the city with no idea of when they might return.

  The brothers rode the bus in silence across the river and into downtown Portland. Will watched the city as they passed through. Districts that had always been industrial were alive with new construction, the signs of future growth sprouting up around them. It was strange to see. While he had never been one for venturing downtown often, the changes to his normally quiet town were striking. He couldn’t help but wonder what the future would hold and, if he and his brother were successful, what he would make of the city when they returned.

  If we return.

  They reached the meeting point for the tour group an hour before it was set to begin. The evening was cool, the day’s warmth having rapidly dissipated, and Will was thankful for the scarf wrapped around his neck. His coat was cut close at the waist and not long enough to hide the dragon fangs, so he had secured them within his pack. He felt strangely naked without them, exposed. He had taken to wearing them as often as possible in order to grow accustomed to moving with them, and already they felt like a natural part of him. He had adjusted to his other gift, the key, in much the same way, its rhythmic pulsing something akin to a second heartbeat.

  “We’ve got some time,” Mad said as he shifted his pack and adjusted the noctori’s ring on his finger. “What do you say we grab some coffee and warm up a bit?”

  The pair found a nearby cafe and began their watch. Shortly after they sat down, the first few people arrived to wait for the tour. During the next forty-five minutes more arrived until there were a dozen people waiting. Laughing and chatting, they displayed a levity that Will couldn’t match. They have no idea what they’re walking into, he thought as he watched them. They don’t know that they walk the fringes of reality.

  He was just draining the last bit of coffee when the group’s guide arrived. The animated man spoke to the tour for a few minutes before leading them down the street. Without a word, Madigan and Will shouldered their packs and exited the cafe, observing from afar.

  The tour soon stopped outside a small bar. Gesturing for the group to wait, the guide went inside briefly before emerging alongside two new men. Rejoining the group, the guide beckoned for them to make way as one of the newcomers walked past them. He unlocked a metal trapdoor in the sidewalk and lifted it high before descending into the dark hole. Laughter followed as a loud, overly embellished “Watch your step!” from the tour guide carried down the street. Once all members were within, the remaining man from the bar closed the trapdoor behind them and disappeared back into the building.

  “So that’s it then,” Mad said. “We just pick that lock and go down tonight after the group comes out.”

  “Seems straightforward enough,” Will said in agreement. “Although it won’t be as easy getting down there without being seen. This street isn’t exactly off the beaten path.”

  “True,” Mad said, glancing around. The street was one of the main throughways of downtown and would be active at all hours. “Something will pan out. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Twenty minutes later, the man from the bar exited again. He spoke into a walkie-talkie and lifted the trapdoor. A moment later, four of the tourists and the guide emerged from below. The group appeared to be shaken yet were also apologizing profusely to th
e guide who was making an effort to calm them down.

  “Will, come on,” Mad said. He was already crossing the street. Glancing quickly at the open trapdoor, Will drew his scarf a bit tighter and followed, keeping his head down.

  The shaken group had walked toward the entrance to the bar, seeming to be in a hurry to put as much distance between themselves and the tunnel’s entrance as possible. The guide and the man with the walkie-talkie ushered them into the bar, laughing and reassuring the tourists. The entrance to the tunnels were momentarily unguarded. Madigan made his move and raced down into the darkness. Will hurriedly followed his brother into the entrance, expecting a shout of alarm. None came.

  At the base of the ladder was a dimly lit room. Pipes ran along the cement walls and a small rope path marked the way forward. Madigan stood a few paces in front of him but there was no one else in sight. Murmurs echoed from farther down the corridor, where the tour had obviously made it a short distance before the interruption and were waiting for their guide to return. Out of earshot, Madigan and Will still kept their voices to a whisper.

  “We have to move quick,” Madigan said as he began to move toward the waiting group. “That guide is probably right behind us.”

  As if on cue, Will heard voices above and saw someone stepping down onto the ladder. Madigan beckoned quickly and darted into the shadows behind the steps. Will followed, heart pounding, and did his best to shrink into the darkness. He dropped to a crouch and leaned back into the shadows, letting his body fill the space as much as he was able. A moment later, the guide appeared from above, chuckling and saying something about jumpy tourists. He paused briefly, glancing around, and then moved forward to rejoin the group.

  Will waited until he was well out of earshot before speaking. “So, do we stay put and wait until everyone leaves, or do we move forward and hope for the best?”

  “Come now, Will.” Will could hear the grin in his voice as Mad nudged his brother forward out of the darkness. “We’ve hardly begun. Where’d be the fun in hiding?”