Forge the Path of Sorcery

by NAK Baldron

  That's where the small black box came in.

  The plan was to attach it to the mayor's SUV and transmit the GPS location along with the speed of movement. It would be tough to get the box on the vehicle, but with any luck, tonight would reward their vigilance.

  Slava stayed behind—he wasn't healed yet, but they planned to check in often.

  As they headed south on 183, Lance looked worried. Kandice hoped it was more from leaving Slava than the actual mission. Lance had mentioned earlier that it would be the first time he would attempt to track a target without Slava's backup.

  Kandice tried to assure him they would be fine since there were two of them, and Lance in turn, made her promise not to put herself in danger—to run at the first sign of it. She was fed up with them reiterating her shortcomings and how fighting Aether Walkers was so dangerous. Like they expected her to not follow the plan and get them all killed.

  What gave them that impression?

  The only thing that made sense was they might have had a previous partner that didn't follow the rules. They were a team—everyone had a job to do and needed to follow the plan. Else, the whole mission would fall apart.

  Traffic was horrific.

  Friday night was always a madhouse the closer you got to downtown. Lance used the traffic map to circumnavigate the worst of it. At one point, he had to dart off the highway, almost missing the exit because the map showed a wreck up ahead.

  "It's accurate for the past five minutes," he said, as they sped onto a side street near downtown.

  Kandice gripped her overhead handhold as he turned—what her mother had called the oh-shit bar—Lance drove twice as fast as she ever would. The laptop slipped as they made another turn, and she braced it with her spare hand.

  "Thanks," Lance said. "I'll go slower."

  He took several twists and turns as they worked their way toward the mayor's estate. The cops were out in force. Every major light seemed to have a cop parked near it or driving through it. Even the bicycle police were out. It didn't make sense why there were so many outside of 6th street.

  Inside the mayor's neighborhood they slowed down, but not so much as to draw attention to themselves. It was a higher-class neighborhood, and suspicious driving would stand out like a fire truck. As they rounded onto the mayor's street, the mist of his scent became visible.

  "Excellent," Lance said. "Maybe he'll be home. This might be an easy night."

  When they reached his gate however, there were no cars in the driveway and the scent stopped. They went to the end of the street and turned around, using the shoulder of the road rather than someone's driveway.

  "Well, damn," Lance said. "We'll have to follow and hope the scent doesn't die."

  The mist took them onto a major highway that then merged onto a small back highway. That led to the aristocratic portion of Austin, as they continued on toward Westlake. The road slithered as it followed the cliff face. Lance couldn't resist taking the sharp turns at over sixty MPH. She held on tight. It was more nerve-racking than hunting. Yet, the SUV hugged each turn and never slipped an inch. Lance was a precision driver.

  He's got to have so many speeding tickets.

  If a cop stopped them, he could receive a reckless driving ticket. But she hadn't seen a cop since downtown. The scent hung in the air like a chemtrail and led them to a resort. There were several luxury cars, and it looked like a well-to-do party was happening inside.

  They pulled under the front awning.

  "I'm going to go see if there is a room available," Lance said. "Stay in the car and leave if you see any Aether Walkers interested in you."

  "Okay," Kandice lied.

  There was zero chance she would leave him. If a fight broke out, there would be too many witnesses, and no way for him to get away. They might not have seen any cops on the way here, but it wouldn't take them long to get here if called.

  The valet came to the window and Lance rolled it down. "I don't have a reservation. I need to check if there is a room."

  "Yes, sir," the valet said. "Please, pull forward."

  Lance pulled up to where the valet had shown and then got out.

  "Remember," he said. "First sign of an aggressive Aether Walker, leave. I'll be fine."

  She watched as he walked through tinted-glass doors. The resort was five stories high—the stonework was beautiful. There were an overwhelming number of high-end sports cars, luxury SUVs, and limos in the parking lot. Only in music videos had she seen that many sports cars in one place. Aside from the two valets standing at the entrance, no one else was outside.

  Two men pulled up to the valets in a golf cart. The younger valet grabbed their club sets and escorted them inside. She watched the men eye her SUV as they crossed through the front doors.

  He needs to hurry up.

  Clearly they were out of place. Everyone that passed gave a questioning look toward the SUV.

  Lance opened the driver-side door. "They don't have any rooms available for the night. There's nowhere else close to stay."

  "What do we do now?"

  "We'll have to find somewhere to wait. He'll most likely take the same route home. So we wait and see."

  As they pulled out of the parking lot, a high-end SUV with two Aether Walkers pulled in. One looked like a panther on his hind legs. The other resembled an insect, and his bulging eyes made her skin crawl.

  Bugs are gross enough, but oversized bugs . . .

  They waited a minute as the Aether Walkers stopped at the valet stand, before he pulled away. "Can't get caught watching."

  "How do they hide?" she asked.

  "What do you mean?"

  "How does no one notice their odd behavior?"

  "They've had years of experience blending in with society," he said. "They keep appearances of being normal productive citizens."

  At the end of the road, they took a right, heading back toward Austin. There was a gas station a few miles down the road—near the highway—that had a darkened side of the building near the dumpsters. Lance backed into a spot and killed the lights. From their location it was impossible to see into the gas station.

  "I'm not sure how long we can stay here," Lance said. "Tonight might be a bust. Getting the tracker on his SUV will be harder than I hoped."

  "Why don't we sneak onto his property tonight?"

  "That's a good backup plan, but it's also the most dangerous option. We should try to find another way."

  Not even fifteen minutes later, a cop pulled into the gas station. The officer parked his squad car in a way that blocked them from leaving while keeping the driver's side away from them.

  "Let me do the talking," Lance said.

  The officer approached the driver-side door, hand on his gun. He was a tall man with no hair. Kandice smirked because the officer's head reminded her of a penis.

  Lance rolled down his window. "Good evening officer."

  "We received a complaint," the officer said. "About a suspicious car parked out here. Where are you two coming from?"

  "We were just down the road at the resort. They didn't have any rooms, so I was trying to figure out a good place for us to go."

  Lance showed the officer his phone with a search for luxury hotels.

  The officer shone his light into the car.

  "Are you okay, mam?"

  "Yes, sir," she said. "Sorry if we caused a problem."

  "No problem," he said. "But I'll need y'all to move along."

  "Yes sir," Lance said and started his engine.

  The officer looked toward the back seat and then returned to his patrol car. Lance continued toward downtown.

  "That was weird," Kandice said.

  "Not really. I've been stopped by cops often enough when I'm in nicer neighborhoods. Luckily, I had a good story, and the SUV looks nice enough to pass."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Sapphire Nation, Fencura

  Two queens, a great start. Ren left his jaw slack and pushed his tongue to the roof
of his mouth. He led the hand—not wanting to signal too early—he pushed two Silver Marks toward the growing pot. The dealer declared his bet for all the table: Shaya, Dai, Akio, and Sarah, another traveler from the Emerald Nation who enjoyed the higher stakes of the Thieves' Market. No one raised Ren's bet. They all settled for calling.

  "Option, sir?" The dealer asked Ren. A man built like a bull, with a visible hatchet on either side of his waist. He acted as both host to the game and enforcer.

  "One, please." Ren tapped the table, indicating he'd keep his cards and take a new one.

  Draw Poker is a game of skill and guts. Each round began with a bet, the first set the ante. Followed by a round of drawing. Every player received one new card per round, but they could choose to discard one unfavorable card, thus drawing two cards on rounds two through five. With every round of betting progressively growing more aggressive, it was rare a hand made it to the showdown. Most final rounds were settled with a large bet and a fold.

  Shaya and the rest of the table took two cards. A great sign.

  "Wager, sir?" The dealer asked Ren, after every other player looked at their new cards.

  Two Queens, and an Eight. Best to thin the field. "Half-Quarter." The smallest of the gold coins joined the pile of growing coins. A Half-Quarter represented more than half the pot available. As expected, Dai and Akio folded, leaving Shaya and Sarah.

  "Option, Sir?"

  Ren took two cards, an Ace and another Queen.

  Thank the gods!

  The only difference between cards in the Sapphire Nation and back in the Pearl Nation was that they played the Ace as both high and low instead of always low. Back home, Ren may have been considered an idiot when it came to his math lessons, but here his inferior skills were more than sufficient to trounce these players. Ren was up nearly a full Mark. If he kept it up he'd walk away with enough gold to repay Brandon and pay for his whole stay.

  The two ladies drew two cards each.

  "Wager, sir?"

  Make them pay now, or allow them to see a final card and think I drew poorly?

  Ren picked up two Half-Marks and played with them in his right hand, while he puzzled over the cards in his left. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the two ladies, as they watched him like sharks. He tapped the gold against the stone table.

  "One Mark is the wager," The dealer announced.

  Two strangers peered at the table from behind the roped off line. Each player sat in specially made high-backed chairs, which blocked their hands from outside observers. Provided the players didn't go flashing their cards about.

  Shaya cursed under her breath and slammed her cards down. Sarah on the other hand raised.

  "Raise, one Mark."

  Ren pushed the coins forward to make up a full Mark. He was down to less than a Half-Mark left.

  "Option, Sir?"

  Ren spanned his index and middle finger into a V formation while pushing one card face down toward the dealer. The dealer tossed back two new cards. Two Kings, though most locals would say two Emperors out of respect. Ren waited as Sarah drew one card.

  "Wager, sir?"

  Ren pushed all his coinage left. Not enough to cover Sarah, but plenty enough to draw in a small crowd of observers.

  The dealer tallied the pile with the proficiency of a man who spent his life counting coins. "Half-Mark and two Silver Quarters."

  More than I thought.

  In the distance men spoke over their own games, but no one in eyesight moved, much less spoke. The air was electric as Sarah counted her coins, a small sum compared to the pot. Either she or Ren would look foolish at a showdown. She dropped a full Mark to cover Ren's wager, a way to signal to the crowd she expected to win.

  "Show, sir?"

  Ren rolled over his left wrist, willing his hand not to twitch with excitement.

  "Boat. Ladies, over Lords." The dealer gestured to Ren's hand with his right and then to Sarah with his left. "Show or fold, miss?"

  "I think that's enough for one night. Thank you for a wonderful evening." Sarah tossed her cards into the pile of coins.

  The dealer quickly broke her Mark into smaller coinage and offered her the difference. She swiped her remaining coins into a side purse and left the table. He stacked Ren's winnings into neat piles and pushed them over to him. Ren took a Silver Mark from the top and tossed it back to him.

  "Thank you, sir." The dealer bowed his head. "Antes please."

  After the tip Ren had: five Marks, three Quarters, and nine Silver Quarters. He crunched the figures in his head.

  Seven thousand, one hundred, and sixty-four credits. Shitsickle! That's enough to repay Brandon and live here for months.

  "I need a few hands to settle myself," Ren announced to the table. It was rude to leave after winning a large hand, but since Sarah had been the loser, it saved Ren from impropriety.

  "You'll post an ante every hand, sir."

  "I understand. Thank you." Ren knocked the stone table with his knuckles.

  I'll be as rich as Johnathan.

  * * *

  Time lost all meaning inside the Thieves' Market. With no source-light or lack thereof to tell the passing of the day, time quickly became an illusion beyond what was at hand. A man in the crowd told Ren it was nightfall, but had that been two hours ago, or three? Ren's winnings continued to climb as new players came and went. Only Ren, Shaya, and Dai remained from the original five. Akio left to deal with their affairs, and Dai sent the twins to deal with his responsibilities. Dai was doing everything he could to rattle Shaya and take her gold. But after a long day he was still down.

  Ren, on the other hand, kept growing his horde of coins. House rules prevented any player from removing coinage from the table until they left the game. Leaving the game meant a three-day ban from the tables. In practice this meant as Ren's stacks grew, Shaya, Dai, and new players kept buying in for larger and larger amounts. In effect the stakes kept rising, despite the ante staying the same.

  For the past forty or fifty hands, Ren turned cautious, folding earlier than he'd like. The cards had turned on him, and there was no telling when he'd be able to win another hand. Best to protect his winnings and wait.

  If he didn't pass the examination to become a sorcerer, he'd found a career. Poker was the easiest way to make money.

  "Option, sir?"

  Ren took two cards and found his hand improved. Two Aces. The best he could hold at the moment.

  Shaya and Dai each took two. The newest player, a man whose name Ren couldn't recall—he was an easily forgettable person—took one card.

  "When are you going to give me your money?" Ragi asked Ren.

  During Ren's last bathroom break, A man in the crowd who'd watched him play for hours, let him know Ragi was a professional poker player.

  "When you beat me at showdown."

  "Wager, sir?" The dealer asked Ragi, who led this hand.

  "Half-Mark." Ragi slammed the coin down on the table.

  An absurd amount compared to the pot, but Ren knew he was ahead. Not wanting to draw attention to his strength and acting flustered he called. Everyone else folded, and Shaya shook her head at Ren, but he didn't pay attention.

  The tent was silent. Many of the tables were empty as their players gathered around Ren's game. The evening's entertainment promised blood.

  Ragi took one card again, and Ren followed suit.

  "Wager, sir?"

  "Two and a Half-Marks." Ragi pushed the gold away from his massive pile. He had enough to cover Ren twice.

  The fuck is he doing?

  Ren looked at his hand. Two aces and a three. Still extremely strong.

  "Call."

  Again, Ragi took one card. Ren pushed away his three and claimed two cards.

  Before the dealer finished tossing Ren his cards, Ragi called out, "Six Marks."

  The crowd sucked in between their teeth. Shaya had explained table etiquette beforehand. For Ragi to call out without being asked was a sign of di
srespect. To call out a massive overbet three hands in a row signaled he was either insane or held a perfect hand.

  Ren peaked at the new cards. Ace, queen.

  Fuck you Ragi!

  "Raise, six Marks."

  Ragi's face betrayed him, and Ren saw it had all been a bluff. The man didn't have quads, and Ren doubted he even had a set.

  "Well?" A man from the crowd called out. Taunting Ragi for making himself look like an ass.

  Ren fought down a laugh, hoping Ragi would read his raise as a bluff and call.

  His wish was granted, and Ragi pushed forward the coins, silent for the first time all night.

  Ragi drew one card, and Ren matched him.

  "Wager, sir?"

  Ragi tapped the table three times, signaling to Ren and the whole room, he wasn't strong enough to bet.

  "Wager, sir?" The dealer asked Ren.

  He looked at his hand. Quads. Four glorious aces, and a queen.

  How to get paid?

  "Twelve Marks." Ren settled on repeating the bet, signaling to the crowd Ragi had made an ass of himself. If he called, Ren made money. If Ragi folded he would be disgraced for making an ass of himself, and Ren would earn a permanent reputation.

  "Wager, twelve marks." The dealer told Ragi since he'd not moved in over a minute.

  He's shitting himself.

  "Raise to fifty Marks!" Ragi pushed gold toward the dealer to allow him to count it out.

  "What?" Ren asked.

  "Wager, fifty Marks." The dealer answered.

  Ren looked at his piles. At best he had thirty marks left.

  "I don't have that much," Ran said.

  "I agree to a debt," Ragi said.

  "What?" Ren's mind wasn't working. All he could think was, what the fuck, on a repetitive loop.

  "No," Shaya said. "Ren."

  He looked at her, forcing himself back into the moment.

  "If you want to make this wager, I'll loan you the marks," Shaya offered.

  "I don't want to bet that much," Ren protested.

  "Then fold, boy," Ragi said.

  "The wager is set at fifty marks," the dealer said. "You can call thirty-eight Marks, or fold. The wager has been offered in the form of a debt, so it stands."