Cloak of Dragons

by Moeller, Jonathan

  “I think we’re clear,” said Riordan, and he took a few steps forward to let the others in after him.

  “Dear God,” said Nadia, looking around. “How much stuff did your uncle have?”

  “My uncle was a man of refined and broad taste,” said Della. “Though sometimes voluminous taste, come to think of it. This way.”

  Riordan led the way down the wide corridor, scanning the balconies and the metal doors. All the rollup doors had locks next to them, glowing with red LEDs. Nadia gestured and cast a spell, blue light flaring around her fingertips.

  “Some of those doors have wards on them,” said Nadia.

  “Yes,” said Della. “My uncle was quite skilled with warding spells.” She sighed. “He always wanted to teach me, though I was more interested in music than in spell work. Alas that he shall never have the chance to teach me now.” She pointed. “Kenneth Hamilton’s office is that…”

  Her voice trailed off, her nostrils flaring.

  “What is it?” said Nadia.

  “I smell human blood,” said Della. “Quite a large quantity of it.”

  “I don’t smell anything,” said Nora.

  “I’m afraid my senses are quite a bit keener than yours,” said Della.

  “If she says she smells blood, then there’s blood nearby,” said Nadia.

  “I think it’s coming from Hamilton’s office,” said Della.

  “Let’s check it out,” said Riordan.

  About twenty yards later the rollup doors ended, and Riordan saw a metal door that said SECURITY in bright red letters. Next to it on either side were a pair of windows concealed behind blinds. Further down the corridor was the entrance to a cargo elevator and the door to another stairwell.

  Riordan smelled the blood himself now.

  “Brace yourselves,” said Riordan. “I think this is going to be ugly.”

  Della unlocked the office door and stepped aside. Riordan pushed open the door and eased around it, Shadowmorph blade coming up.

  The smell of blood hit him in the face, bringing with it the memory of countless battles and skirmishes.

  It was dark in the office, and behind him, Nadia gestured and cast a spell. She summoned a sphere of blue light that floated into the air, giving off a pale glow, and it illuminated a scene of horror.

  The room looked like dozens of other security offices that Riordan had visited over the decades. There was a large desk near the back wall, with a nameplate that read K. HAMILITON, DIRECTOR. The wall on the left held a row of metal lockers, and dozens of flatpanel screens covered the wall on the right. The power was out, so they were all dark, but likely they connected to camera feeds scattered throughout the warehouse. Two more desks stood against the nearer walls, no doubt so the guards could fill out their timecards or write reports.

  A dead body lay on the floor before the main desk, a pool of congealing blood beneath it. Riordan took a few steps closer, his eyes roving over the scene and noting details. It was a heavyset man wearing gray cargo pants, work boots, and a white uniform shirt. A radio, a flashlight, and a pistol were on his broad belt, and a name tag over his left breast pocket read HAMILTON.

  His head had been smashed. Not just smashed in, but crushed, turning it into an unrecognizable pile of bone and torn meat.

  “Blood hasn’t congealed fully yet,” said Riordan. “He hasn’t been dead all that long. No more than a few hours.” Probably he had been killed while Riordan and the others had been eating breakfast.

  “Look at his shirt,” said Nadia in a soft voice, pointing at Hamilton’s stomach. The white fabric had been burned away just above his belt, revealing a fist-sized charred hole in the flesh. The smell of burned meat would have been overpowering, but the odor of blood had drowned it out. “Looks like Blaster Boy was here recently.”

  “Yeah,” said Nora. “And he found another blaster.”

  “Seems clear what happened,” said Nadia. “Neil shot him in the stomach, and when he fell over…” She made a fist and mimed a punch. “Least it would have been quick.”

  “It would have been, yes,” said Riordan, stepping back.

  “Then Hamilton was not the one who betrayed my uncle?” said Della.

  “Maybe not,” said Riordan.

  “Or maybe more than one person betrayed Malthraxivorn,” said Nadia, “and they had a falling out once they realized we were onto them.”

  “I don’t think we’ll learn anything else here,” said Riordan. “We had better have a look at the vault and see what was worth all this killing.”

  “This way,” said Della.

  They left the office. Della unlocked the door to the stairs, and they started down. Riordan remained watchful, his eyes sweeping the concrete steps for any sign of danger. Neil Freeman was somewhere in the building, he was sure of it. Whether lying in ambush or awaiting further orders, the cyborg was nearby. Riordan had fought him to a standstill the last time…but this time he would have the help of Nadia, Nora, and Delaxsicoria.

  If it came to a fight, when it came to a fight, hopefully that would be enough.

  The stairs ended in a seriously impressive steel door that looked as if it had come from a bank vault. Della punched in a code into the keypad, swiped her card, and the heavy door unlocked with a clang. She pulled on the handle, and it swung open on silent hinges.

  The warehouse’s basement stretched in all directions, the ceiling supported by thick, square concrete pillars. The air was cold and dry, and the only illumination came from the emergency lights mounted on the steel girders of the ceiling. It filled the basement with gloom and shadows. Riordan didn’t like it. There were a thousand places a clever foe could hide down here.

  Della led the way through the aisles between the concrete pillars. Riordan scanned the gloom, watching for Neil or any other foes, and he saw Nadia and Nora doing the same. The back third of the basement had been sealed off by a chain link fence, and Della unlocked the gate and slid it open.

  “Here,” said Della. “This is where my uncle would have kept anything from the Ural Mountains. He would store his most valuable items here.”

  The area behind the fence had about the same floor space as a mid-sized church, and it was mostly empty. Five wooden crates about the size of a car sat in a neat row. Their ends had been pried off. A folding plastic table had been set up near the crates and held neat rows of stacked books.

  The crates were open, and in front of each rested a long cylinder of dull gray metal about the size of a large coffin. The lid of the cylinder on the right was open.

  Riordan walked closer, the others following him, and looked at the open cylinder.

  “It looks like a tanning bed,” said Nadia. “A really expensive, uncomfortable tanning bed.”

  It was just large enough to have held a single person, and the sides of the cylinder were lined with pipes, tubes, and a variety of other equipment. There was a small panel at the head of the cylinder, and Riordan flipped it open. Inside he saw a computer display that read STANDBY and several ports and connectors.

  “Looks like you would connect a computer there,” said Riordan, “and control…whatever this machine was.”

  But he was beginning to have a suspicion. Memories of the old science fiction books he had read as a young soldier flicked through his mind. He had told Nadia how those ancient books had inspired the development of computer and touchscreen technology.

  Maybe those books had inspired Catalyst Corporation in other ways.

  In darker ways.

  “Riordan,” said Nadia, scowling at the interior of the cylinder. “Do you think there was someone inside this thing when they found it?” She hesitated, reached down, and picked up one of the tubes. “This almost looks medical.” Nadia let it drop back into the cylinder. “Like it was…supposed to be plugged into someone, like an IV line or something.”

  “But if Catalyst Corporation was destroyed in Conquest Year 121,” said Nora, “that means someone would have been inside that cylinder
for two hundred years.”

  Della leaned over the cylinder and sniffed. “It smells of chemicals and drugs.”

  “I want to have a look inside one of the other cylinders,” said Riordan.

  “Wait,” said Nadia, pointing at the plastic table. “Look at the books.”

  “Copies of the Summoning Codex,” said Riordan, his voice grim. “Dozens and dozens of copies of the Summoning Codex. Probably found near these cylinders.”

  He crossed to the nearest closed cylinder and examined the mechanism on the lid. It had already been forced open once. He stooped and lifted the lid, and it swung open without a sound.

  “Jesus,” said Nadia.

  An armored skeleton lay inside the cylinder.

  At least, it looked like an armored skeleton at first glance. A closer look revealed that it was something else. The skeleton’s right arm was made of metal, twin cables the width of a pinky finger coiling around it. The cables continued into the skeleton’s ribcage, where they connected to a device the size of both Riordan’s fists that had probably replaced the dead man’s heart. Riordan saw more machinery inside the skull, something that looked like a fiber-optic computer, and additional devices in the skeleton’s joints. Metal plates gleamed on the skull and the bones, and there was armor plating affixed over the ribs and where the intestines would have been.

  “What the hell?” said Nora.

  “Is this some sort of filthy necromancy?” said Della, scowling at the skeleton.

  “No, not necromancy,” said Riordan. “Science.”

  Nadia met his eyes over the cylinder. “This guy was like Blaster Boy, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, another cyborg,” said Riordan. “Built and enhanced to be the perfect soldier. We all saw how fast he moved, and that forcefield generator built into his arm could deflect bullets. If you had a dozen men like him, they would make for excellent commandos and saboteurs. Let’s open up the other tubes.”

  One by one they moved to the other cylinders. As Riordan expected, the other three tubes held similar skeletons equipped with metal arms and machines.

  “Good,” he said, gazing at the skull in the last tube. “Neil Freeman is the only one of them who is still alive.”

  “These cylinders,” said Nadia. “What are they?”

  “I think they’re cryonic machines,” said Riordan.

  Nora blinked. “Cryo-what?”

  “I have never heard this word,” said Della.

  Nadia sighed. “This is some more science fiction crap, isn’t it?”

  “Yup,” said Riordan. “Cryonics was basically the idea that people could be frozen and put into suspended animation. If someone had an incurable disease, or they were critically injured, they could be put into suspended animation until a cure could be formulated.”

  “It didn’t work,” said Nora, pointing at the skeleton. “Whoever was in these cryonic units died a long time ago, and they rotted away. All that’s left is the bones and the cybernetic machinery.”

  “But that one worked,” said Riordan, gesturing at the empty tube. “It’s been almost two hundred years since Catalyst Corporation was destroyed. It’s a rare piece of technology that will keep functioning that long. I think Catalyst created these cyborg soldiers. Probably in Conquest Year 109, like the lab report said. The company put them into suspended animation in its secret facility in the Ural Mountains, and then when the corporation was destroyed, both the base and the cyborgs were forgotten. Four of the cryonic units failed and the soldiers inside them died, but the one holding Neil Freeman stayed online. One of Lord Malthraxivorn’s treasure hunters found the place, and he realized the cylinders were something valuable. He sold them to Malthraxivorn, who figured out what he had. He must have awakened Freeman and questioned him, and combined with his sources among the Elven nobles, he understood just how valuable and dangerous this technology was. Malthraxivorn was planning to give Freeman, the blaster weapons, and the cryonics machines to the High Queen when he was murdered.”

  “So why did Neil murder Malthraxivorn?” said Nadia.

  “I think he was made to do it,” said Riordan.

  “Coerced?” said Della.

  “No,” said Riordan. He bent over one of the metal caskets and picked up a skull. He turned it gently, revealing the wires stretched along the sides, and he heard the rattle of something inside. He lifted the skull towards the emergency light, and the light flashed off something metallic inside the brainpan. “I think he was programmed.”

  “Programmed?” said Nadia.

  “There must have been a computer linked directly to his brain,” said Riordan. “Maybe instructions can be programmed into the computer, forcing the cyborg to obey. When we faced Freeman, he said he didn’t want to hurt us. Nadia, when you fought him, he said he was sorry. I think the computer in his brain compels him to follow orders.”

  “That’s messed up,” said Nadia.

  “It is,” said Riordan. “I suspect we can guess why the High Queen shut Catalyst down.”

  Nora shifted. “The High Queen and the Elven nobles keep slaves. How is this any different?”

  “By considerable degrees,” said Riordan. “The law says criminals serve out their terms of enslavement to Elven nobles, and then they’re free. You and I both know that it doesn’t always work that way, but that’s at least what is supposed to happen. But none of the Elven nobles slice into the skulls of their slaves, install computers, and turn them into…”

  “Meat puppets,” said Nadia. Her eyes were cold and hard. She didn’t like the idea at all. Maybe it had reminded her of the Eternity Crucible. “I think we should head back outside. If Neil comes after us here, he’ll have the advantage. Outside, we’ll have some warning and more space to maneuver. Once we’re outside, I’ll try to contact the High Queen and ask for her to send help right now.”

  Riordan frowned. “She wanted you to take care of this quietly.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?” Nadia took a deep breath. “She told me that she had no idea who killed Malthraxivorn, but I bet she thought it was another dragon, or maybe something that had gotten loose from the Shadowlands. I don’t think she has any idea that this – cyborgs, blasters, cryonics, all of it – was going on. She shut down Catalyst Corporation the first time. Once she knows that someone’s been using some of Catalyst’s old toys, I think she’ll send some help. Maybe Inquisitors. Hopefully some officers of the Wizard’s Legion.”

  “That’s a good plan,” said Nora.

  “I want to find my uncle’s murderers,” said Della, her eyes flashing in the gloom. “But…yes, I think this plan makes sense. Fighting the cyborg without help would be…”

  Nadia’s backpack buzzed. She cursed, reached into it, and yanked out her aetherometer.

  All its dials were spinning.

  “What is it?” said Riordan.

  “Summoning spells,” said Nadia, her eyes going wide. “Someone just cast a lot of summoning spells all at once…”

  “Look!” said Nora, her Shadowmorph blade springing into her right hand.

  Dozens of fingers of mist crawled through the basement, winding their way around the concrete pillars. Riordan grimaced and called his own Shadowmorph blade, pulling together magic for a spell.

  He knew what those fingers of mist meant.

  “That mist,” said Della, taking a step back. Magical fire began to crackle around her fingers. “Are those…”

  “Wraithwolves,” said Nadia. She had put her aetherometer away and watched the fingers of mist, her stance radiating tension.

  All at once, the fingers of mist solidified and hardened into dozens of wraithwolves. The armored, wolf-liked creatures looked like black shadows in the gloom of the basement, their eyes shining like crimson coals. Riordan tensed, expecting the creatures to rush for the gate in the chain link fence, but they remained motionless.

  Someone was controlling them.

  Footsteps clicked against the concrete floor, and t
wo men came into sight.

  The first was Neil Freeman, still wearing his black coat, jeans, and steel-toed boots. His expression was grim and weary, and he carried a heavy black rifle that looked like a more powerful version of the blaster he had used to shoot Nora.

  Charles Edina walked next to him.

  Gone was all trace of the pompous, timid, officious business manager. Now a smirk covered his face, and his eyes glittered with malevolent glee. He had taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. In his left hand, he carried a device that looked like a chunky black smartphone, almost a small tablet.

  On his right hand, he wore something that looked like a peculiar combination of body armor and a medieval gauntlet. It was made out of black metal, and a red crystal on the back of the glove gave off both a steady light and a peculiar humming sound.

  Della let out a scornful sound of disgust as she saw Edina.

  “Good afternoon, my lady,” said Edina, smirking at Della. “I’ve been looking forward to this, you overgrown lizard.”

  ***

  Chapter 16: Singularity

  Della snarled at Edina’s insult, and Edina opened his mouth to speak.

  But I wasn’t interested in hearing the speech. It was obvious that Edina was the one controlling Neil, that he had sent Blaster Boy to kill both Malthraxivorn and Della, and that he was the one who had summoned all those wraithwolves, probably with that weird gauntlet thing on his right hand. I could drag the truth out of him once we had dealt with Neil and the wraithwolves.

  I cast a spell, hurling a single globe of lightning at Edina. I wanted to shock him, knock him out so we could deal with the wraithwolves. Edina let out a squawk of alarm and fear, and Neil stepped in front of him, right arm clenching. The blue forcefield appeared and deflected my lightning, and Neil swung his rifle towards me and squeezed the trigger. I cast a Shield spell of pale red light in time to intercept the fiery bolt. The rifle version of the blaster hit a lot harder than the pistol, but my will held against the attack.