Auz Burger

trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 CHAPTER FIVE EVERYTHING happened at once. Magic sparked. The girl screamed. Alex reacted without thinking. She jumped. The spider snapped free from its leash in mid-air, her true teeth and claws piercing her human skin like switchblades. She covered the distance in a single leap, gliding over the heads of customers and broken furniture in a graceful arch, and slammed into the gunman the moment he pulled the trigger. A white energy blast hit the ceiling, sending dust and tiny stone fragments raining down around them. Panicked shrieks rang through the bar. The pseudo-guardaí stumbled backwards, barely able to keep his footing, his cold eyes wide with utter surprise. It only lasted a second before it was replaced by an ugly scowl. His hand jerked. The spellgun barked again, white light flashing. Alex threw herself forward with shaper-speed and the energy bolt missed her by the skin of her teeth. She actually felt its heat. The hairs on her arm curled, singed by the radiation. Behind her, something crashed, and more people shouted, but she had no time to check if someone had been hurt. The bullneck was already raising the spellgun again. Still in the movement of going down, Alex dove forward, using her momentum to swipe his legs out from under his body. He went down with a grunt, his back crashing into the floor, knocking over two chairs on the way. He shook his head, visibly dazed. Alex was on him immediately and yanked the spellgun from his fingers. Biting on her teeth, she strained until the delicate, almost glassy-looking silver-blue metal of the tube buckled and finally crumpled in on itself under the pressure of her hands. Something caught the light. Alex leaned back on instinct and instead of stabbing her through the heart, the thug’s knife just ripped through her shirt, merely gracing her ribs. It was just a scratch, really, but it felt as if she’d been lashed with a burning whip. The spider howled. Poison, huh? And some heavy shit, too, from the way her body instantly went into defense mode, flooding her skin with heat as it triggered the immediate immune response. So, this is how you wanna play? The bullneck swiped the knife at her again, but rather halfheartedly, probably expecting her to be a goner already. Sloppy. Very sloppy. 43 Commented [AB23]: I think “biting her lip,” or “biting her tongue” would work better here. “Biting her teeth” is kind of awkward, since you bite with your teeth, not on them. trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 Killing a shaper with poison was… well, not impossible per se, but a tough challenge at best. They didn’t react to toxins like normal humans did. If the concentration was high enough, it might cause them an anaphylactic shock, but mostly they could burn right through it. They were poison, after all. Alex caught his wrist and squeezed hard until the knife dropped from his hand. Leaned forward. Her fangs slid out of their canals, replacing her human teeth, glistening wet with milky liquid. See how you like these little babies! Silent horror flashed in the thug’s eyes, when he realized his mistake and he tried to roll to the side. Too late. She clamped him down with her legs and sank her teeth into his throat. Blood filled her mouth, hot and sweet, a vivid stream of life, and the human part of her was appalled but the spider in her… the spider was absolutely thrilled. It sang inside her, a triumphant, wild howl, as her venom pumped into his body. The trueborn struggled under her, his heels drumming the floor. Then he went limp. His hands convulsed at his sides, his face a terrible mask of agony. Hurts, sugar, doesn’t it? Oh yes, by now it must be hurting. And how it must be hurting. As if he was being flayed alive, or so she’d been told. Not that many victims lived to tell. A shaper’s wicked kiss was mostly enjoyed but once. Still, from the looks of him, the pain was excruciating enough for him to wanting to scream his black little heart out, yet, as luck would have it, at the same time the venom was developing its paralyzing effect, laming his nerves, disabling every muscle connection, making it impossible for him to move. Next would be the respiratory tract. His breath already came in wheezing gasps. He’d be dead in less than a minute. Alex raised her head. The bullneck’s fellows were recovering from theirre shock and closing in on her joint force, faces distorted with fury. She rose slowly. Blood was rushing in her ears. A wild, glorious song. A song of battle. A song of death. The spider bared her bloody teeth and the wild gaped at them from solid black eyes. She smiled. Let’s play. They charged. Alex exhaled and let the spider in her take control. Instinct took over and she moved, claws and teeth flashing, a lethal shadow in the half dark of the bar. The rest of the room, the people, it all faded into the background, all thoughts and emotions dimmed by the primal need to survive. They ambushed her from all sides and she spun like a whirlwind, claws slicing the air. Someone screamed and one of them went down, clutching the shredded mess of his arm. The scream died quickly. The others, sobered by his fate, kept more their distance, avoiding the range of her poisonous stings. They circled her, slowly now, warily, like a pack of wolvefs circling a very truculent deer, waiting for an opening. Prey might have been intimidated. The predator in her was just really pissed. One of them lost his patience and went at her from behind. Bad choice! Sensing his approach through the floor, Alex twirled around, sending a high kick at his jaw. Bone 44 Commented [AB24]: Re: changes the meaning has to be “Not that to tell.” ??” That flows well and point across. “I think this a little? Perhaps it many victims lived definitely gets the trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 gave way and the blond giant, who’d pointed out the children, howled, raising both hands to his face. Alex quickly assessed the destruction for further reference. Jaw: broken. Teeth: at least two missing. Ego: irreparably damaged. Something whistled through the air. Alex jerked her head to the side just in time to avoid the throwing dagger. Its tip buried itself into the backrest of a chair, where her body had been a split second before, shaking slightly. Wow, close call! A second dagger cut the air. This time she was prepared. Moving on liquid joints, she snatched it from the air in mid-flight, flipped it in the same movement and sent it back to its owner with aimed force. It pierced his dark bald forehead bullseye, pinning him against the paneled wall. His eye broke, his body went slack, and a small red trickle of blood ran down between his eyebrows. The blond giant, still bleeding from his mouth, bend bent down and broke a leg from a chair, brandishing it like a club. He must have a head of stone to be up after that kick. It would have knocked most men out, but he didn’t seem too worse for wear. Didn’t even sway on his feet. Magic tugged on her. She threw a glance over her shoulder and almost lost her head as Blondie swung his club at her. She danced backwards, light on her feet. A little to the side, another merc with a black ponytail and a silver hoop in one of his ears, was holding a blood red crystal between his hands, chanting something under his breath. A floris incendi -– a fire flower. She’d seen a picture once. High High-grade military weapon, close-combat, without a wide range of destruction. Full of surprises, weren’t they? The crystal started to glow a deep crimson. Oh no, you don’t. Alex hammered a kick into the chest of the blond bloke man that broke at least a few ribs and made him crash into a table and darted over to the enchanter. His eyes were luminescent with a feverish purple glow. A sneering grin spread on his face. It died, when she punched her claws into his chest. The chant ended abruptly, replaced by a gurgling sound from his throat, as red foam bubbled up at the corner of his mouth. The magic object slid frorm his fingers and landed on the floor, where it burst into tiny shards that sparked like little fireworks and then crumbled into powder and scattered like blown ashes. The strong smell of burnt incense pinched her nose. She ripped her claws out of his chest and his prone body toppled to the floor, twitching. There was movement behind her and she ducked on instinct. Something whooshed over her head. When she came up, she felt the reversed airflow. Ah, shit! She jumped upwardsup into the air. Not quick enough. Blondie’s club slammed into her side. She hit the wall with enough force to make her woozy. The giant planted himself before her, spitting a dark clump of blood through the gap in his teeth. Sweet Jester, couldn’t this one die at all? The club raced towards her face. Alex moved in the last moment, dropping to her knees and delivering a punch to his groin. A high, strangled sound, like that of an unoiled door, issued from his mouth and he doubled over, dropping the club and clutching his nether regions. You didn’t really think I’d fight fair, did you? 45 Formatted: Font: Not Italic Commented [AB25]: Re: “Could this work? Or do you think the negative version “couldn’t die” is better?” I think the negative works better in this instance. trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 Alex jumped onto his shoulders and grabbed his head, twisting. A nasty crack announced the breaking of his neck and they went down together. Alex let go of him before they hit the floor and rolled up like a cat, bloody fangs bared in a vicious snarl, ready to dodge the next attack. But none came. Five lifeless bodies littered the Jester’s taproom, one or two of them still twitching softly in their final throes. There was this tiny moment of shocked silence in the bar, when you could hear a pin drop fall, then the panic broke loose: people started to scream and run, heedlessly bumping into the tables and each other, as they shoved for the door in a pile of panicked feet. An older man with a gray fringe of hair in a color-stained workman's overalls received an elbow in the face a couple of yards left from her and went down, vanishing from her view. Others just trampled over him in their mindless frenzy to reach the exit. Alex rose fluidly. Now that the immediate thrill of the fight left, the metallic taste of blood in her mouth was turning bitter. She spat to the side and ripped a piece of cloth form from her torn apron, wiping her bloody lips, while letting her gaze roam through the room trying to locate the children in the chaos. There. Still in the same place, two immovable islands in the churning sea of chaos around them. Nobody paid them any attention, all too keen on saving their own hide. Well, that was the Bin for you. Every man for himself. Suddenly the boy jerked as if shocked with a wire, a tremble shaking his whole body up from his toes. His head snapped to the back, his spine arched as if he was having a fit and his eyes stared at the ceiling, vacant, as if he was seeing into a far distance. His lips moved. Above the turmoil, Alex only heard fragmented words. “… rift… open… will… more.” More? More was bad. More was shit. She’d been able to handle these guys, but she’d had the moment of surprise on her side. No say way if she’d be that lucky again. She wasn’t so arrogant to think she could take on countless numbers of trueborns by herself, and with those dead trueborn thugs in the field, it was only a question of time until the cavalry showed up. There would be a hell of a lot to explain and she didn’t see any scenario in which that would possibly go out in her favor. The boy went limp. With a sigh, his eyes rolled back into his head and he crumbled down. Alex cursed and moved with shaper speed, materializing beside him on one knee and catching him before his head hit the floor. She looked down on his face. Slack. Fainted Passed out. Just great! Alex whipped around to the girl, who stared at her from eyes so wide they reminded her of a panicked horse. “How many more?” she She pressed. “Why are they after you? What do they want?” No answer. “Hey!” Alex snapped her fingers in front of her face. No reaction. The girl didn’t blink, just kept staring form from those huge frightened eyes. Her breath came in short shallow heaves. Alex touched her hand. The pale skin was cold and clammy. Shock, most 46 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 likely. The mind locking down in self-defense, unable to process what was going on around it. In the distance, the telltale wail of sirens announced the incoming forces of halfborn Peace Officers. Now that was fast. The station wasn’t that far, but still. Someone must have alerted them before the last of the trueborn would-be-guardaí had stopped breathing. Now what? Whoever was after these kids, he was dead serious. Shooting at them in public, that was some announcement. Even in the Bin certain things simply weren’t done, and butchering children in plain daylight was one of them. Those people probably wouldn’t back down because the halfborn PO made its appearance. Her eyes wandered to the dead bodies of the guardaí-impostors. For all she knew, more of them could pop up every any second and even a dozen POs with automatic weapons were no match for a trueborn combat unit who really wanted their hands on these kids. This would end in an even bigger slaughter than it already was. Get your ass away, sugar, as long as you still can! The sirens screamed, getting louder quickly. Alex hesitated. Glanced at the kids. Oh, for heaven’s sake… Alex bend bent down, hauled the boy’s limp form form over her shoulder and grabbed the girl’s sleeve, pulling her with her. The kid stumbled after her like a sleepwalker. She maneuvered them right into the thick of people still streaming for the exit, adding her own pressure onto the bottleneck. Some of them turned to protest, but when they realized who was behind them, the words got stuck in their throats. One look at her true eyes was enough incentive for them to back off. It resulted in people pushing to the sides, opening space for her that helped her getting faster to the exit. Nice. She’d remember this for being very handy, if she ever again didn't feel like waiting at the end of a long queue in a supermarket. There was a bit of a to and fro, when people couldn’t decide what they wanted more: to get out of the deathtrap the Jester had become or to keep their distance from her. Since others kept pressing from behind, there wasn’t much of a choice. They were swallowed by the mob and spit out into the gray afternoon street. Like the days before, the sky was overcast with smoldering clouds and despite it being barely past three, it already felt like early evening. Dense fog wafted through the alley in thick billows, the strong smell of rotten fish almost turning Alex’s stomach. People were scattering quickly, but some were piling up in groups, sticking their heads together and chatting agitatedly. Oh, the gossip would be spectacular, no doubt. Shapers, gunfire, and dead people – that should keep the neighborhood busy for weeks. A few of them noticed her and the kids and a couple of hands pointed in their direction, but nobody made a move to stop her. Well, after what she’d done to those trueborn suckers inside the bar that was hardly surprising. The sirens were still growing louder, their shrill wail pummeling her eardrums. The POs must be right around the corner. 47 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 Adjusting the weight on her shoulder and reinforcing her grip on the girl’s sleeve, Alex turned left and headed up the misty alley at a swift pace. It wasn’t her direction, but if people were asked where they had gone they’d point the officers north instead of south, where she really intended to go. After a couple of steps, a blue light flashed through the mist behind her. Damn it! Dropping any kind of pretense, she dove into the first side street and broke into a run, pulling the dazed girl with her. The kid half-ran, half-stumbled beside her on stocky legs, while the boy’s dead weight wobbled up and down on her shoulder, bumping against her back. There was a low rumble like distant thunder and the pavement trembled beneath her feet;: the end portion of yet another magical impact rattling the Jester. So, the ‘“more’ more” had finally arrived, it seemed. No time wasted. They really weren’t kidding. Alex pushed even harder, increasing her stride, supporting most of the girl’s weight, who could barely keep up with her. They rushed through the maze of little side- streets and shady alleyways. Left. Right. Left. Left. Right. It wasn’t the shortest route to her flat, but this way they would be harder to track. At an intersection, Alex halted in the cover of a graffiti graffiti-covered stone wall and caught her breath. She pressed a hand to her side. Her skin was on fire, where the poisoned knife had cut her. She knew her body was already burning through the poison, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt like a wicked bitch. The boy squirmed a little on her shoulder, his bony knees digging into her clavicle. She checked him. Yep, still out. Alex let go of the girl’s sleeve and took set him down, carefully propping him against the wall, relieved to rid herself of the additional weight. The kid wasn’t heavy -– probably less than 70 pounds soaking wet -– but his unconsciousness made him about as manageable as a sack of potatoes. A very bighuge sack of potatoes. Just Except that a potato sack wouldn’t mind if she accidentally banged it against a wall or jut. Bracing her left hand against the wall, Alex preened around the corner, summoning her threads towardstoward her and gently casting them outward like an invisible web, sensing, listening. Immediately, sensations flooded her like little trigger bells, giving her a mental picture of their surroundings like sonar beams cutting through the mist, shortly illuminating the darkness within her mind: aA baby screaming. Water streaming from a drainpipe close by into the canalization, its thick drops splashing against a heavy iron gully. The rough bark of a dog, strangely hollow through the mist. And steps. Many steps. Heavy boots, running, sending tiny vibrations through the cobbled stone streets, hitting the ground in a very distinct rhythm. Her threads picked them all up, sending them into her spider-core, where they were interpreted. She quickly recognized a certain pattern of steps moving in the same directions: they were searching the area in groups of about two to three moving in wide circles, closing in form from the outside in a kind of dragnet tactic. A good tactic, that 48 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 prevented little rats from slipping through their mashes. Well, she wasn’t a rat. She was a spider and she didn’t intend to get caught in their invisible net. None of them were too close yet. Which didn’t mean they were safe out here. They had to keep moving. Alex withdrew her threads and the world shrunk back to the spot below the moldy stone wall. When she turned around to the children, she was faced with two pairs of huge brown eyes. Very conscious brown eyes. Ah, welcome back among the living. They stared at her. Alex raised a finger to her lips, just in case, although that hardly seemed necessary;: they looked so rigid with fear they probably couldn’t have made a noise if they wanted to. “They are searching for you,.”, she whispered. “We have to move. Come. Follow me.” They didn’t move. Really, a stone would have given her more reaction than these two. Alex almost rolled her eyes. Without further ado, she grabbed both of them by their arms and pulled them with her. They stumbled along, either because they were still too much in shock to resist or because they finally got the gravity of the situation. It didn’t really matter at the moment. All that mattered was getting away. And quickly. Dirty buildings replaced one another as they pelted through tiny passages and slink ways, the soles of their shoes slapping the soggy asphalt. The mist cut the world into small, isolated pockets of silence, sucking up most of the sound they were making. Well, who’d have thought she’d once be thankful for its smelly wet embrace? An underpass loomed in front of them like a dark, gaping maw. The strong stench of piss greeted them as they drew closer. The Bin was truly keen on giving them a guided tour that left nothing to be desired. Usually, she’d give such a place a wide berth, but today she wouldn’t be picky. She hauled the reluctant kids forward and the tunnel swallowed them in damp darkness. This must be what it feels like to be digested in someone’s gut, Alex thought, repulsed, gaining more speed. At the other end of the tunnel, the exit winked at them like a silver coin, promising fresh air. Their steps echoed along the concrete wall, incredibly loud in Alex’s sensitive ears. The gray round on the end of the underpass quickly grew into the exit and they were almost out, eager for a clean breath, when Alex heard male voices. She stopped dead in her tracks. One of the children, surprised by her abrupt stop, bumped into her. A sound of protest rose, but Alex dashed around, pushing them both against the wall. “Shhhh!” They froze, becoming rigid again, like two stone statues, eyes wide, hearts beating with such a force that Alex was almost sure it could be heard atop the passage. She listened. Steps. Very close. At least two pairs. They must be right above them, perhaps standing directly at the railing looking down at the heap of litter just outside the underpass, where someone had dumped half of his 49 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 household: empty food packages, bottles, dinted dented cans, a gutted armchair, and a perfectly round car tire – why ever somebody had wanted to get rid of that. “-–have to be out here somewhere,!”, a rough, slightly accented male voice growled. It sounded so close, Alex’s heart made a flip. If she closed her eyes, he could be standing right next to them. “Two children of their ilk cannot just vanish into thin air!” Beside her, the girl started to tremble, but to her credit, she kept quiet. “Relax, Cutter,.”, replied another very deepa baritone voice. “Just a matter of time. They won’t be able to hide out here long. And if they come out…” The first grunted. “But what if the halfborn popo’ seizes them first?” Province of Salisburgh, definitely. Her colleague coworker, John, was from up there and she’d recognize the accent anywhere. “Afraid of their little toys, Cutter?” Predatory amusement tinged the deep gravel grinder voice. Alex imagined a huge muscle-head of a man. Perhaps he was flexing his biceps right now. Someone hacked up something and spat; a wet clump hit the ground only inches from where Alex’s feet were resting. Yummy. Mercenaries in all their glory. “Don’t try to bugger me! I don’t give a shit about their popguns, but roughing up the halfborn fuzz wasn’t part of the deal. This was supposed to be an easy ride, fast in, fast out. No unnecessary complications. This is getting too hot. I’m not gonna risk me neck just because someone else doesn’t wanna get his hands dirty.” “You know how this works, Cutter,.”, said the deep voice sharply. “They ask, we deliver. And if somebody pisses on our parade, we pour it down his throat and make sure he suffocates on it.” The tone of his voice made it clear, that he was going to enjoy it, too. Someone shifted on his feet. Alex almost smelled unease despite the stench rising from the dark puddles that slicked the floor around her. Cutter was worried about something, and she didn’t have to wait long to find out about what. “Did you see what happened to Santino and his crew? That’s messed up, man! Tis just not worth the pay.” A slight growl entered the other voice. “The pay’s good and you know it.” He must be in charge, or at least the dominant of the two because Cutter didn’t object. There was a moment of silence, before the same voice said, softly,: “And and we’ll end up just the same way if we come back empty handed.” So, someone had them by their balls and was playing ping-pong. Interesting. The steps started to move away from above them. “Get the boss on the coms,.”, the baritone deep-voice ordered. There was a clang, the mad screeching of a cat, a thud, and then Cutter cursed. “Fuck this bloody shithole!” You can say that again!, Alex thought, while their voices faded away with their steps, until the only sound left was the heavy breathing of the children that filled the silence in the tunnel. They were hunkering atpressed against the walls, two small pale shapes in the gloom of the underpass. If they had looked scared before, they now were terrified. “They are gone,.” , Alex said softly. She motioned them forwards. “This way.” Now, she didn’t have to pull them along anymore. They were running beside her as if death was up at their heels, and that wasn’t so wrong either. 50 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 She led them more west. It was a part of the Bin’s treacherous maze she’d never been to before, but her sense of orientation direction told her they were circling around right. And, indeed, a couple of minutes later they burst out of a passageway and right into her hood. Familiar dark windows in whitewashed walls watched them suspiciously as they bolted down the street. Alex herded the kids into the inner yard to her flat apartment and towards the fireladder. Both of them faltered at the daunting sight of the metal mess that aspired itself to be a staircase, casting it uncertain glances. “Up. Up. Up!” Alex chased them onto the staircase and flinched as they clomped up the metal steps with enough noise to let the whole neighborhood know where they were. When they were about halfway up, Alex leapedt onto the ladder, slipped along its bottom side, and came up in front of them. Ignoring their startled gasps, she quickly unlocked the door, pushed it open and leaned back to let the children pass. They rushed past her into the flat apartment in a flurry of thrashing limbs, and, with a last glance over her shoulder, Alex followed them inside. 51 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO A DOZEN men flooded the chamber just as they were about to jump through the portal hole, and immediately made a bee line for the arch. Clutching Alex to his chest, Darken plunged into the darkness and tore forward, trusting his feet to find their way on the lumpy grass expanse that stretched before them, while his eyes still fought to adept adapt to the inky blanknessblackness. Not far in front of them, two moving shapes troubled the night: Maxwell and Josepha zigzagging like two chased bunnies. Shouts rang out behind them. Shifting his grip on the weight in his arm, he threw a glance back over his shoulder. The Duke’s men were doing their best to fight off the intruders, who were just merely trying to dodge and reach the portal which was already starting to close behind them -– well, at least the Duke wasn’t backstabbing them that way. Still, at least six or seven of the men managed to jump through the shrinking hole, before it snapped shut, cutting the last one of them neatly in half like a falling disk-saw blade. His severed torso landed on the grass with a wet thud. His niece, who had been looking back as well, screamed and dropped down on all fours, retching audibly. Altering his course, Darken swerved towardstoward her. “Keep running, darling!” Her head appeared between her shoulders, dark strands of hair hanging into her clammy forehead. But one look at their pursuers send sent her scrambling back to her feet. Darken reached her side, propping her up and beside each other, they hastened forward. Matching Josy’s speed, Darken peered into the treacherous darkness beyond them, at the indication of hills peeling out of the night at the horizon like dark frozen waves. Come on, where are you? Men barked behind them. Heavy feet pummeled soft earth. Thud-thud-thud. The erratic beam of a flashlight whirled over the ground. Left. Right. Left. It caught them for a blistering second, throwing their shadows into long, twisted shapes in front of them. Ah, curse it! Darken squinted into the night. Where were they? They had to be here somewhere! A sliver of worry teased along his spine, as he wondered if he might have screwed up the last glyph in his haste to alter it. In that moment he spotted a tiny red light winking in and out of existence at the horizon. Another joined the first. The border stones, finally! 238 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 Something hurtled past them and hit the ground to their left with a soft hiss. Darken veered right on instinct. The night exploded in blinding light and a thunderclap punched his ears. A flash- grenade. The bastards! Alex screamed and spasmed in his arms, almost causing him to drop her. He held on to her jerking body with difficulty, fighting for his balance, while trying to spot Josepha and Maxwell through the flurry of flashes impairing his vision. A shot hit the ground behind him, barely missing his foot, sending up a spray of earth. Someone bellowed something that was distorted by the persistent ring of the flash grenade’s aftershock in his ears. Red hot anger surged through him and a familiar sensation burned the back of his hands. The night got a dangerous ruby sheen. No. Darken blinked his eyes against the impending crimson rage. Wards. They had to get to the wards. Increasing his speed, he hauled Josy along, but Max was falling back. Swearing under his breath Darken slowed and waited for him to catch up, but the boy simply couldn't keep the pace any longer, not with that leg. Damn it all to the bowels of hell! Darken scanned the perimeter again. Couldn’t see the red lights anymore. Were they in? Had they crossed the border? Didn’t matter. They couldn’t keep running. He spun, facing their pursuers. The enemy was advancing on them without closed formation like a goaded pack of gun dogs, barking and panting for blood. The closest was barely twenty yards behind. “Let me down!” Alex squirmed in his arms. “Damn you! Let me down, let me down!” With another silent curse, Darken set her down on her feet. She swayed precariously, but immediately two knifes knives appeared in her hands. That was the spider he’d come to know:: bBarely able to stand on her own two feet, but ready to fight to the last breath. There wasn’t much time to be impressed, though. “Stay back!”, Darken growled, as he slid forward to meet the first attacker. The man rushed at them, swinging a spiked club, eyes glittering maliciously under the rim of his black skull cap. Darken’s sword moved into his hand at its own accord. He spun in a lightning arch, blade flashing, painting a diagonal line of red across the man’s chest. Blood sprayed, sprinkling him and evaporated where it touched his scorching skin. The man crashed to his knees, his eyes wide in surprise at the life gushing out of him in a scarlet stream. His body toppled face- down on the grass. Darken felt the exact moment when his soul crossed the threshold into the domain of death -– his domain -– and it was all he could do not to reap it where he stood. The scent of blood filled his nostrils and shuddered over his skin like a lover’s caress. Death wrapped her wispy arms around his neck, stroking him, arousing him towardstoward a dangerous climax. He rose and swelled with a fierce need, the pressure in him mounting and cresting until nothing mattered but the souls glowing brightly in the darkness of his mind. 239 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 Another attacker with a huge combat knife who’d been about to rush him, slowed at the sight of his dead pal and pulled a spell-gun form from his belt instead. Darken hesitated too, not sure if he would be able to resist from reaping his soul if he killed him now. And if he did… Just a sip. Just a tiny, tiny sip. You know you want it. Yes. He shuddered. He wanted it. Craved it with the desperation of a dying man in the desert a sip of water. But this was a dangerous sip to take, and if the blood-red currents dragged him under, there would be no distinguishing between friend or foe. Like a shark in a blood rage, he would kill and kill until there was no- one left to killkill, or he dropped from sheer exhaustion. His hand clenched around the hilt of his sword. He couldn’t lose himself, not with Maxwell and Josepha so close. Not at the risk of hurting them… or Alex. As if in slow motion he saw the mercenary raise his spell-gun. His magic churned through his bloodstream, burning, raging, demanding to be satisfied. Kill! Kill, kill, KILL! The deadly fire filled him to the breaking point, burning into his fingertips where the fabric of his gloves started smoldering from the lighting energy. His head throbbed with the mounting pressure, until he thought his skull would explode. Need to… kill. His vision blurred. Sweat broke on his forehead No!!… Couldn’t… the children… Alex… Torn between the need to act and the horrifying knowledge of what would happen if he lost this fight, he hesitated a moment too long. The merc’s lips pulled back from his teeth. A spark of magic blossomed at the tip of the gun, growing, growing. Time spun back to its normal pace. Something whizzed past his cheek and suddenly the hilt of a dagger sprouted from the man’s left orbit. The merc’s jaw dropped, he went limp and prostratedfell. The knife must have nicked the brain, too, for he was gone before Darken’s magic could reach even out to him. Darken wheeled around just in time to see Alex pulling out another knife. Even in her addled state that woman wasn’t to be underestimated. He shortly inclined his head at her, which she returned with a grim nod of her own. Out of the darkness, a shadow launched himself at Alex. There was no time to shout out a warning. She tried to parry, but the sheer weight of the merc’s body tripped what shaky balance she hadhad, and he could only helplessly watch as she went down beneath him. They rolled around in the grass with vicious noises. Tossing a handful of sting powder at the rest of the incoming mercenaries, Darken dashed towardstoward Alex in a lethal blur to rip the man off her. Before he had reached her, the thug rolled to the side, howling and clutching his belly. Beside him Alex sat up in the dirt, looking slightly dazed. She was doused with blood and gore. Only his? Or hers as well? 240 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 From the corner of his eye, Darken saw a movement and whirled in the direction. One of the remaining mercenaries had come in from the left flank and stopped about thirty yards away. With a smug grin, he leveled a flash- arrow crossbow at Alex’s exposed back. Magic licked at the weapon with flickering blue sparks as he charged it. NO! Without thinking, Darken tore off his left glove and thrust out his hand towards the man. Everything had a price! A lone wolf’s howl echoed through the night. It was an eerie, blood-curdling sound that had all the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Darken froze. Another howl joined the first and suddenly the night was full of a wild ravening battle hymn. This time Darken didn’t hesitate. He relinquished the grip on his sword, dropped to his knees and raised his hands over his head. They were hit by a storm born from dust and magic. It enveloped them with staggering force, drowning them in magic and thunder and he pressed his eyes shut against the bite of the dust grains as phantom winds whipped earth and sand into his face. “Don’t fight them!”, he shouted, hoping to be heard above the uproar. “Don’t move. It will be okay. Just don’t fight them!” Whatever you do, Alex -– please don’t fight them! The snap of a released flash- arrow bolt ripped through his gut. Somewhere in front of him, he thought he heard Alex scream. Great motherMother, please no! His hands clenched into first, but he could do nothing but wait for the storm to pass. There were pops and screams beyond the wail of the conjured winds, while magic ripped and pulled at him with sharp invisible fingers. Then suddenly -– silence. Darken opened his eyes. When the dust had settled enough to see, they were surrounded by a closed circle of hooded figures in dark gray cloaks, their faces completely hidden by wolf-shaped metal masks, except for a slit for the eyes. They stood completely motionless. Every third or fourth of them was holding a burning torch, whose flames created almost more shadows than they banished, flickering over their masks and biting ragged chunks of the darkness around them. The rest of them were pointing charged flash-pikes and spellguns at them. Several bodies littered the blood-soaked grass inside the circle, but with immense relief, Darken spotted Max and Josy clutching each other and glaring around fearfully. A little in front of them, Alex was perching on the ground, still looking a bit dazed but otherwise unharmed. Relief swept thoughthrough him with such staggering force that it took him by surprise. Alex’s eyes darted along the row of masked men like that of a threatened cat, her body tight, upper- lip curling back to reveal yet human teeth. At an inaudible command, the circle parted at the far end, just long and wide enough to let a tall man enter. Night’s Avatar if ever it had one: : huge and dark, with skin like coal that fused him with the darkness around him, mocking the flames of the torches trying to capture his likes. 241 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 His floor floor-length black leather coat swished softly as he moved, its seams brushing the tips of the grass blades. A tangle of long dreadlocks fell over his massive shoulders and, despite the dark, a pair of shaded sunglasses covered his eyes, reflecting the torch lights. The Custodian -– in the flesh. “Now look what the cat dragged in,.”, the man drawled softly, as his hidden gaze traveled over the dead bodies. His voice was deep and resonantresonant, and it was the kind of voice that didn't need to be raised to be heard. He slowly moved forward, casually stepping on one of the men on the floorground. Spine crushed under his heel. If the man had still been alive, now he definitely wasn’t. Not giving any indication that he had even noticed,noticed, the Custodian bent forward and studied another corpse to his feet with visible resentment. “I do not appreciate it at all when the peace in my domain is being disturbed in such a savage manner. There is no welcome for those who raise their weapons inside my boundaries, except for a deadly one. The question is,”, his eyes rose from the corpse to fix on the living in front of him, “what about you?” Taking it as his cue, Darken rose to his feet -– slowly, so as not to give any of the iron wolfs a reason to consider him a threat that needed to be obliterated, whereby causing him to slaughter the lot of them. Holding out his palms in front of him, he stepped out of the shadows into the shivering light cones. “I do apologize for bringing bloodshed into your domain,”, he said with a small inclination of his head, “and I assure you that it is not our intention to bring any more harm to you and yours than has already been done.” “Well, well, well.” Dark lips revealed a sharp flash of white teeth. “Darken Forfeit, what do you say? As always bringing chaos into my peaceful domain.”“ He cocked his head to the side. “To what do I owe the doubtful honor to receive one Death’s Servants under my roof?” Darken allowed himself a spare smile, slipping just a mere hint of warning into it. “Don’t play me for a fool, Blayde. We both know perfectly well that I am not here in my capacity as a member of the Order.” “No.” Blayde’s gaze flickered towardstoward his niece and nephew. “No, I didn’t think so.” Putting his fingers together in front of his wide chest he bent his head until he almost looked over the rim of his sunglasses. “Which only spikes my curiosity.: I suppose it must be a most intriguing story that brought you over my ward-boundary, and in the company of these,”, his lips puckered with disgust as he indicated the dead bodies forming mounds in the grass, “ill-fated creatures.” “It is certainly one of the more interesting,”, Darken agreed cautiously. “In that case, I hope you will indulge me.” “It is the least I can do, after you came to our help. But it will have to wait.” He motioned at his companions, while he slowly moved forward until he was standing beside Alex who was still crouching on the floorground, following the exchange through narrowed eyes... 242 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 Blayde watched them through his sunglasses. “Indeed, it will.” Shifting his stance, Darken casually positioned himself between Blayde and the spider -– a most precarious position, if this went the wrong way. This wasn’t over yet. Oh no. The children posed hardly a problem and he himself might be warily tolerated as an infrequent visitor, but Alex was a different story. She had yet to pass Blayde’s scrutiny, and this was the kind of scrutiny that couldn’t be passed by using a knife or a threat. When he had altered the course, the last on his mind had been the idea that bringing a shaper into the Pacified Zone might be a fatal error. And if Blayde had any reservations against shapers… “This is Alexis Harper,”, he supplied carefully, giving her an imploring glance, willing her, for once, to keep her loose tongue in check, not sure whose side he would choose if this turned, after all, into bloodshed. Blayde’s veiled gaze rested on Alex for an uncomfortably long moment, while Darken hoped dearly that the Custodian wouldn’t ask any inconvenient questions, because if he did, she would lie, and if she lied… well, old friendship hither or tither, there was a certain protocol to observe when entering the Pacified Zone and there were certain things that wouldn’t be tolerated. Lying was one of them. And Blayde had a certain way of knowing when he was lied to. To his utter surprise, Blayde stepped over and offered Alex his hand. With a skeptical side-glance at Darken, Alex took the offered hand and let the Custodian help her to her feet. Her shirt ripped across the shoulder with an audible snap. “Enchantée,”, Blayde leaned forward and breathed a kiss on her fingertips, with all the gallantry of a gentlemen gentleman going over the fact that she was sprinkled form from head to toe with gore and blood. “It is rare that we welcome such exotic beauty in our climesregion.” Darken gritted his teeth. Laid on a bit thickly, don’t you think, Blayde? Alex stared at the Custodian with a baffled expression as if she wasn’t sure if this was part of a comedy play and someone would jump out of the bushes any moment calling “‘pranked!”’. “Uhm-–” She reached up to hook a strand of blood-clotted hair behind her ear. The movement caused her tattered shirt to tear completely across her chest, revealing more than enough of her black bra for him to have a fair guess at her size. The spider actually blushed. That woman made absolutely no sense. She had no qualms about going toe-to-toe with a forfeit, but a bit of skin turned her all wild-shy. Before anyone could say anything, Blayde snapped his fingers and one of his iron wolvefs stepped forward and deposited his cloak in his hands, before blending back into the circle. Blayde unfurled it with a flick of his wrist and put it around Alex’s shoulders. “Ah well, thanks, sugar,”, Alex mumbled as she pulled the cloth around her, “I’m afraid my clothes are a mess.” “A mess they might be,”, Blayde noted with a bow of his head, “and yet you wear them like a queen. But then, I’m most certain, an exceptional lady like you would look most magnificent in almost any kind of… thread.” 243 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 Alex stiffened visibly, and Darken held his breath, but Blayde had already turned his focus to his niece and nephew. They studied him a little warily, butwarily but didn’t seem overly afraid. He’d thought they would be more intimidated by the black Custodian, but perhaps after all they had been through this day, their capacity to be afraid was finally used up; and then, since he didn’t show any of his own tension, the would see no need to be afraid of him. Which didn’t mean that there was no reason to fear the man. “So, the lost little birds have finally returned to their nest.” “Bad news travel fast, it seems,”, Darken muttered dryly. Blayde smiled, showing his teeth. “You know me: I’m a sucker for a good scandal. And there was, plainly spoken, no way around this one.” True words. Blayde crouched in front of Maxwell and Josepha, leaning slightly forward. “I am Blayde, the Custodian of the Pacified Zone and I assure you that no harm will come upon you as long as you wander inside my boundaries. TonightTonight, you shall sleep untroubled by worry or fear. You shall be my guests and receive the full scope of my hospitality.” “Does that include something to eat?”, Max asked hopefully. Darken coughed softly, but Blayde just chuckled. “You must indeed think me a very poor host, talking and talking while my guests are exhausted… and starving!” He winked at Darken and rose. “There will be plenty of food. I don’t want to risk being accused of leaving my guests hungry. Whatever you need -– rooms, showers, food -– it shall all be provided. How does that sound?” Max’s eyes shone like two stars. “That would be more than welcome,.”, Darken said. “But before we leave…” Blayde raised a hand. “You know the procedure -– I must ask you to surrender all your weapons.” He looked at Alex. “It is the customary policy that no visitor is allowed to carry any weapons within the borders of the Pacified Zone. Safety procedure. They will be, of course, returned to your upon your departure.” Two iron wolfs wolves silently stepped forward, presenting a big waterproof bag. Alex looked like she wanted to protest, but Darken warningly shook his head at her. Pressing her lips together, she stepped forward and started pulling knifes knives form from her clothes: ; it started with her boots, the sleeves, the small of her back… Great Mother, that woman carried more steel on her than a wagon train. A The last knife clinked into the bag and she stepped back with a sigh. “All weapons, Lady,”, Blade said mildly. She stared at him for a second with big eyes. With a slight grimace, she reached into her pants in a way that made all males around her wince and then held up a small finger knife for all to see. “There. Satisfied?” Darken rose an eyebrow. “What? No rocket launcher?” 244 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 The spider flipped the knife, pointing the tip at his throat before handing it over to the two stoic iron wolvefs. “Careful there, sugar. I can kick your sorry ass even without any of my ‘toys.’.” “Found yourself a worthy opponent, eh?”, Blayde’s voice rumbled with ill-concealed amusement. Avoiding a reply, Darken went to retrieve his own sword, but when he made a move to hand it over, Blayde stopped him with a wave of his fingers. “You may keep your sword this time -– as a sign of my goodwill.” Darken bowed his head, but also arched his brows. “As a sign of goodwill -– or rather to keep a closer eye on me?” He wasn’t quite sure, how they did it, but the iron wolfs wolves could trace any weapon inside the wards of the Pacified Zone. Blayde laughed softly. “Ah, my friend, if that was the case, I shouldn’t even let you into my peaceful home, don’t you think?” And as always Darken did wonder, why he was even allowed to enter the pacified zone, taking into account what he was, and what that entailed. All things considered, his sword was likely the least dangerous thing about him. Once asked about it, Blayde’s blunt answer had been: “You should know best that it is not the blade which makes a sword dangerous, but the hand that it guides it.” He didn’t think this was meant to imply that he, the man behind the blade, wasn’t dangerous, but it made him wonder if his welcome would be, indeed, any different, if he actually ever came in his capacity as a member of the Order. “A word of warning to take along,”, Blayde said quietly as the weapon bag was closed and carried away. “The use of weapons and any kind of undue violence under my roof is punishable by death or at least lifelong banishment. Just so there will be no misunderstandings. Now, Dariusz here,”, he pointed to one of the iron wolfs wolves who looked exactly like the mask-hidden rest of them, “will bring you to the hotel.” The named man stepped forward and took off his mask, revealing a square face under short ash blond hair. A stylized purple eye was tattooed between his eyebrows. An augur. Figured. For a guard that fought in dark and dust and that sniffed for hidden weapons it was most convenient to have one of the Seeing Eyes. His own caste wasn’t the only one that was marked so that people knew who – and what – they were dealing with. “Bring the Lady and the young ones straight to the restaurant,.”, Blade instructed him. “Darken and I will have a little chat. And if there is any complaint about their… attire, tell them that these are my personal guests. All their needs shall be seen to. Compris?” Dariusz saluted. Blayde returned his attention to all of them, yet despite his glasses, Darken had the feeling he was looking straight at Alex. “You’re in luck.” His lips parted into a sharp smile. “Tonight, we have steak on the menu.” ~~~ 245 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 DARKEN watched quietly as Alex, Max, and Josy mounted a procured cross-country style coach and the iron wolf called Dairiusz drove them off towardstoward the hotel building indicated in the distance by a spire of tiny lights dotting the darkness like little pins pricked into the dark velvet cushion of the night. The other zone guards vanished one by one, melting into the night like ghosts until only he and the Custodian remained. “They are all augurs,”, Blayde said softly, as if picking up a conversation that had been interrupted a while ago, answering a question he hadn’t asked. Or, perhaps, he had, just not by saying the words out loud. Darken weighed that information. Augurs could see visions of the past, the present, and the future and they were extremely preceptive when it came to peoples’ best bestguarded secrets. He’d always wondered why their presence made him so wary. Now he knew. When the coach had vanished from sight, Blayde picked up one of the torches his men had rammed into the ground and walked over to the nearest corpse. He rolled it over with his foot and squatted beside it. A low whistle emanated form from him. “Now look at that. What have we here?” Sliding his discarded glove back on, Darken glided over and knelt on the other side of the body. It was the one whose undoing had been Alex’s throwing dagger. It still stuck out his left orbeye, producing a slow trickle of blood and jelly-like liquid. But it was the other eye that drew Darken’s attention. The cornea had already turned opaque and the conjunctiva was starting to blister and tear. Darken grabbed for the man’s wrist and held up his hand, inspecting the fingertips. They were necrotizing too, the skin and flesh peeling in layers already turning black. Blayde grunted. “Someone’s been tempering tampering with this little puppy.” “That’s a high-grade military decomposition spell,” Darken said thoughtfully. “They are very effective, but also quite expensive.” He dropped the hand and wiped his glove at his knee. “They mainly use them on spies and soldiers working across the country border, so that in case they get busted and killed their identification cannot cause a diplomatic incident or an excuse for war. The Order uses them regularly, and a couple of other military branches. HoweverHowever, these spells are connected to the regeneration cycle of the body and they have to be renewed in periodic intervals. See how quickly the tissue is decaying? In a couple of hours there will not be much left of this guy but bloody mush. I’d say this spell isn’t more than one or two months old.” Blayde frowned at the dead man. “A soldier?” “Maybe,”, Darken said, although he had his doubts. “But anyone can buy a spell if he has the right kind of money and leverage.” “And knows where to ask the right questions.” “Precisely.” 246 Commented [AB68]: Re: “Does it have to be people’s?” No, it needs to be “peoples’” because it’s both plural and possessive. trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 Military spells, guardaí- imposters, fake- news. There was something bigger behind this. Something he didn’t yet fully appreciate. But he would. Oh, he would. And if he did… Blayde cocked his head to the side, watching him from behind his shaded glasses. “Someone’s got an unhealthy interest in your family and he’s playing with no holds baredbarred.” A game. A threat. Darken felt a sweet, gentle familiar chill running up and down his body. If someone was looking for a killing field, well, he’d make dead sure to provide it. Having an issue with his brother he could understand -– making enemies was the price of being high in politics -– but dragging the children into this had made this game personal. Very, very personal. And they would soon see that he could be a very passionate player. Taking out a miniature recordare memorandi, Darken quickly captured images of the the dead body, starting with the man’s’ eyes and fingers. He looked at Blayde. “Ready for the dirty work?” The huge black Custodian shuffled his dreads and huffed.: “”That one never gets old, does it? Oh, well. Let’s do this.” Together they stripped the corpse in a practiced routine, scanning the body, taking pictures and samples and going through his clothes. They did the same with the other bodies. Or what was left of them. With chilled professional approval, Darken noted the violent efficiency with which the iron wolfs wolves had incapacitated the remaining mercenaries;: no more slaughter then than necessary, but they had made very sure that these men wouldn’t rise again. All of the men had the same spells in place but some of them were older and worked a little slower. Darken took all their samples, though he wasn’t sure if any of them would be preserved long enough to be of any use. But he knew someone who might be able to identify them even without prints and samples, if he provided enough around-material. If anyone could do it, thanthen it was him. When he reached the last corpse, he spotted something behind his right ear. Using his thumb and forefinger, he turned the man’s head. There was a little tattoo of a dagger piercing the center of a rose. He’d never seen it before, but that was neither here nor there. He motioned for Blayde to come over. “Ever seen this symbol?” Blayde leaned over and pursed his lips. “No. I haven’t. And it galls me to admit it.”“ Darken almost smiled. Blayde savored information like other people savored the taste of a fine wine and not knowing something never sat well with him. He carefully took a memora of the tattoo as well and then stored the recordare in his coat. After that he went through the man’s pockets, butpockets but like with the others there wasn’t much to find: a handful of coins; a muesli-bar; a couple of spare weapons. He stored them all, butall but suspected that they wouldn’t find any fingerprints on them. The nature of the dec-spell was to mask the genetic structure while the person was alive and in case of death to putrefy the whole material. These spells were so expensive because they worked. He’d had the questionable pleasure of using such spells before on 247 trueborn-heirs-by-a-thread-edited2 certain spy- missions that brought him into Tharsis’ borderland and while applying them felt like shaving off a couple of layers of skin, they delivered what they promised. In one jacket he found a torn slip of paper with part of a blue logo on it starting with a “‘T’.” Darken had no clue what it was, but pocketed it in one of his small transparent bags all the same. In a breadcrumb chase like this, anything could be of vital importance. And if not, well, then he’d just pocketed a piece of rubbish. Blayde rocked back onto his haunches, balancing on the balls of his toes and rested his chin in his hands. “What do you want me to do with the corpses? Freeze them up for the law enforcement?” Darken considered it for a moment, but then shook his head. Too many secrets. Too many connectionconnections. The law enforcement was dancing to someone else’s tune and when it came down to it, they already had a handful of conserved bodies stored in the morgue of Bhellidor. He doubted a couple more would enrich the results of their pursuit. If anythinganything, it would give the instigators a chance to detach themselves form from these men and prevent that these bodies would lead back to them. And who knew? Maybe being in the dark about the fate of a couple of their mercs would make whoever was behind this sweat enough that he made a mistake and thereby invited himself to a feast at Darkens. And he would make sure to be an very accommodating host. A cold, vicious smile curved his lisps as he turned to Blayde, and he knew that his eyes were glowing with a deadly promise. “Do you still have your dogs?” Blayde’s smile was just as vicious. “Oh, I do. And they always appreciate a little extra treat.” 248