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Authors: John Phythyon

BOOK: 1 State of Grace
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Unfortunately, he was off the road now. The carriage threatened to collapse. He pulled hard on the lever back left, and the vehicle swerved at a dangerous angle towards a tree on the other side of the road. Ravager zipped past as Wolf veered back the other way and got the thing righted.

Wolf wasn’t sure what to do. Ravager had more speed than he did, and he was running out of weapons. And that Shadow power was more devastating than anything Wolf had ever seen. He willed himself not to panic, and pressed the lever as far forward as he could. The carriage rocketed ahead, outpacing the Phrygian Shadow – at least for the moment.

But Wolf ran into another problem. The carriage was indeed faster than the horses, but the team was still in the road, and he soon caught up to them. Now he couldn’t go fast enough, and there was no way to elude Ravager.

Sure enough, the Phrygian fiend roared up behind Wolf and laughed when he saw the situation. A vicious smile slid across his face.

“There is nowhere for you to go, Mr. Dasher,” he called. “I think Her Majesty will need to appoint a new ambassador.”

Ravager hurled another of his death balls at Wolf. Desperately, he ducked. Miraculously, it went through the back window, continued through the cab and exited out the front window. Unfortunately, it found a new target in one of Wolf’s horses. The beast screamed as Ravager’s weapon bit into its flank and started feeding.

Wolf had only a moment to react. The horse collapsed, dragging the rest of them with it. Fortunately, it fell to its right, and pulled the rest of the team in that direction.

Wolf jammed the stick to the left and veered around them, then pulled it back right to avoid three trees. He had it going straight again and pushed it forward, giving the carriage everything he had to try to outrun his deadly pursuer.

Ravager had no intention of letting him go. While Wolf was busy negotiating around the horses, he closed the gap and landed on the roof of the carriage. Wolf was not about to let him lean down and fire one of those death balls straight into the window. He jerked on the stick, causing the carriage to lurch right. Ravager flew off to the left, but he caught the luggage rails and hung on.

Wolf reached for his sword, hoping to be able to gore the fiend before he could do anything about his predicament. Before he could get it, though, Ravager kicked the door handle and managed to unlatch it. Wolf surged forward to pull it shut, but the Phrygian put his foot through the window, kicking Wolf square in the jaw.

He fell back on the bench. As he recovered, Ravager withdrew his foot, altered his position, and flung open the door. Wolf grabbed his sword, still in its sheath, and jammed it into the Phrygian’s stomach. He winced from the pain but did not back down.

Wolf stabbed at him again, but this time Ravager brought his knee up and redirected the sword away from him. Then he flung himself into the carriage on top of Wolf.

Wolf wasted no time in trying to get the intruder off him. He hit Ravager three times in the face and twice in the ribs. The Phrygian Shadow crumpled, and Wolf shoved him off. He’d have fallen out the door, but the damned thing had shut behind him.

Ravager smiled through bloody lips and launched himself at Wolf again. Wolf blocked him, but the quarters were too tight. There was no room to move effectively. Wolf could hold him off but not get away.

Ravager spit blood into Wolf’s eyes. He couldn’t help but react, and the Phrygian used the opening to get a grip on Wolf’s neck. Planting his knees on the seat, Ravager moved over him and held him down. Wolf gasped for breath and tried to find a way out.

“You’re weak,” Ravager said in Phrygian. “What kind of Shadow power is it to hide in shadows? You are worthless. I will show you true power.”

Ravager’s blue eyes lit up with savage glee. Wolf could feel the man’s erect member against his leg. He was enjoying this.

Wolf was too frightened to be disgusted. He dug his nails into Ravager’s wrist and twisted, trying to free his throat. Ravager brought his other hand up, and a bubble of Shadow popped up on the tip of it.

“You can’t get away, Urlander,” he said. “If you free yourself from my grip, I’ll just kill you with my power.”

Wolf ignored him. He focused on twisting the wrist. Ravager had an iron grip. If Wolf didn’t do something quickly, he was going to pass out.

His right leg was draped off the bench, free of Ravager’s body. He brought his knee up hard, cracking one of the Phrygian’s ribs. Ravager released his grip and involuntarily brought his hand to his wounded side. Wolf used the opening to get his foot on the Phrygian Shadow’s chest and shove him away. Ravager landed on the seat, momentarily off-balance.

“Time for you to fly,” Wolf growled. He stabbed the button Quincy had shown him.

The roof flew off, and Ravager was catapulted out at terrific speed. Wolf kicked the lever to put the carriage in full motion again, so the fiend couldn’t land back inside. It took off at a jolt, and Wolf watched as Ravager landed hard on the ground. After a moment, he moved, but he didn’t get up to pursue. He just watched the carriage get away.

Wolf cursed the man for not being dead. He’d almost certainly have to fight him again, and he didn’t know how he was going to beat him. What could he possibly do against that terrifying power of his? He knew now how Sara had been murdered, but he wasn’t sure what to do to avoid becoming the next victim.

That was a problem for later, though. For the time being, he needed to get away and get to Al-Adan. He had a lot to report. Maybe his new controller would have some answers.

 

Chapter 19: A Deadly Mistake

(Two Months before Revelation Day)

 

Boris Davidov sat poring over mission reports. He was most interested in Mikhail Greshenko’s mission. Dubbed, “Changeling,” as his service codename, Greshenko had the ability to alter his appearance. He was currently disguised as an elf on a deep-cover assignment in the Jifani government, where he served as an undersecretary to one of the High Fathers – the ruling priests in Jifan’s theocracy.

Changeling’s mission was twofold. Most importantly, he was to observe and report. The PDB had a pretty good understanding of Jifani thought and foreign policy as a result of Changeling’s masquerade. The reports came infrequently, since getting free to forward the information he collected up-channel to Davidov was difficult. He was constantly watched – as were most of the minor government figures – so he had to be careful about when he sent a packet to Pushkingrad from Eranbul. But when they came, they were packed with information that gave Phrygia a strategic advantage in this arena over Urland or even Alfar.

Secondly, he was to attempt to manipulate policy in favor of Phrygia whenever possible. Again, he had to be very careful about when and how he did this. Jifan was notoriously xenophobic, and they tolerated Phrygian interests in their country only so far as it could be seen to counter Urlish activity in Alfar. Unfortunately, the High Fathers, while being strongly opposed to the Urlish presence in Alfar, saw it as a tactical advantage that weakened what they saw as a corrupt administration. The more the Urlanders interfered in Alfari affairs, they thought, the more likely it was their sponsored terrorist activities would ultimately succeed.

Thus, Changeling often had a difficult job convincing his superior to work in Phrygia’s interest. And, of course, it was made doubly difficult by the fact that the High Fathers were suspicious of humans to begin with. In fact, if his true identity had been known, he would surely be put to a gruesome death.

Sadly, he had nothing positive to report in this latest packet. He had tried to suggest that training some Phrygian magicians would be in line with Frey’s message of guiding other races to perfection, and he had added it would lend a tactical advantage to Jifan to have human allies should the High Fathers be in a position to attack Alfar again.

But, while High Father Holyoak was more progressive than many of the other members of the theocracy – the very reason Changeling had been assigned to him – he was still a conservative Shendali fundamentalist. He saw no profit in training humans to use magic, even if they were allies.

Boris sighed. The High Command was simply going to have to come up with a better strategy. The Jifanis were never going to cooperate in a meaningful way. So long as Phrygia relied on them for assistance against Urland, the balance of magical power was going to favor the Urlanders.

Just then, there was a knock at his door. He glanced up to see Sofia looking at him with a worried expression on her face.

“Excuse me, Comrade Major,” she said. “General Yevgeni Tupelov is here to see you.”

Boris felt his heart stop for several seconds. Tupelov was here to see him? That couldn’t possibly be good. Sofia looked scared. That didn’t portend well either.

“Please show him in, Sofia,” he said.


Da
, Comrade Major,” she said and went out.

Boris had just enough time to swallow and try to get the dry feeling out of his throat. Then Yevgeni Tupelov strode into the office as though he owned it. His bald head gleamed as though it had been polished. His single eye blazed at Boris like a signal light. His olive army uniform was immaculately creased. His posture was ramrod straight, and he smiled like a jackal.

“Good afternoon, Comrade,” he said.

He snapped a salute at Boris and then stood there waiting for it to be returned. Boris tried and succeeded in not rolling his eyes. Technically, Tupelov outranked him, but they were in different services. Boris was not under Tupelov’s command. Still, he decided it would be better not to deliberately insult the pompous general. He stood up and saluted.

“Good afternoon, Comrade General,” he said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Tupelov turned away and started talking as though he hadn’t heard the question.

“I wonder if you can help me, Major Davidov,” he said.

“If it is within my ability, I will do what I can,” Boris said.

He sat back down. Tupelov was in
his
office. He wasn’t going to act like a subordinate.

“I have a little mystery I need solved over at Army Station 505,” Tupelov continued. “I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on it.”

“I’ll try,” Boris said, attempting not to sound nervous. “But I don’t have an agent on the army base. That’s your command.”

“Indeed,” Tupelov said. “Nevertheless, you might be able to assist me.

“A few weeks ago, one of my soldiers found a naked woman in his office after hours.”

“Sounds like a soldier’s dream,” Boris quipped. Tupelov glared at him.

“Indeed,” the general said again. “The woman claimed she was a surprise from his friends. Then she attacked him and ran out.”

“Outside?” Boris asked. “Naked?”


Da
,” Tupelov answered.

“And then?”

“And then she disappeared,” Tupelov said.

Boris raised his eyebrows. He thought he might have an advantage here.

“That seems extraordinary,” Boris said. “A naked woman simply vanishes into a cold, Phrygian night? Has the soldier been investigated?”

Tupelov glared at him. His single eye attempted to bore a hole right through Boris. It was all Boris could do not to laugh.

“We have been sweating him, Comrade Major,” Tupelov said. “The outrageousness of his story is not lost on us.

“There are just a few things that don’t add up. First, the man had no reason to make up such a story. He went back to the office, because he forgot something. That’s when he found the woman. Nothing seemed to be out of order. It wasn’t like he was attempting to cover something up.”

“Perhaps he is seeking attention,” Boris offered.

“Perhaps,” Tupelov replied. “But there’s something else. For several weeks, the staff had ‘adopted’ a stray black cat. It hung around the office and was treated as a pet. Since the incident with the naked woman, it hasn’t been seen.”

Boris paused. He needed to play this carefully.

“I’m sorry, Comrade General,” he said. “I’m really not certain why you’re telling me all this. You said you had a mystery I could help you with. So far, I don’t see what it is I could do.”

Tupelov gazed at him for a moment. He seemed to be sizing Boris up.  Boris put a quizzical look on his face.

“I believe you have a Shadow under your command, Major, who has the ability to shapeshift into a cat. I also believe this agent is a woman.”

Tupelov let that hang in the air. Boris supposed he was trying to be intimidating. It was working on one level. Boris knew that Tupelov was onto him, but Boris was not new at this sort of thing. He’d been a field agent long before he was promoted to a regional commander. He was not about to be bullied or scared by a pompous general.

“I wonder,” Tupelov continued as he wandered around the office, “if you can account for this agent’s whereabouts last month.”

“Of course,” Boris said right away. “Shadowcat was on assignment.”

“Doing what?” Tupelov asked without looking at Boris.

“I’m afraid that’s classified information, General,” Boris said. “I’d have to see some sort of clearance.” He paused then added, “So far as I know, there are no joint operations between the army and the PDB that would require us to share information on missions.”

Tupelov turned and faced him again on that line. The two men stared at each other for a moment. Both knew what the other was saying.

“No, of course not,” Tupelov said. “It seems you can’t help me after all.”

“I’m sorry,” Boris said.

“I’m sure the incidents are pure coincidence,” Tupelov continued. “I would hate to think what the consequences would be if they weren’t.”

He walked back to the desk and met Boris’s stare. His lone eye blazed furiously.

“An unauthorized investigation would be a ... deadly mistake,” Tupelov said.

Boris stood up. He didn’t like being threatened, especially by a general whom he had good reason to believe was engaged in some form of malfeasance. He put his hands on his desk and leaned in close.

“I agree, Comrade General,” he said. “Any sort of unauthorized activity would be great cause for concern.”

The two men continued to stare at each other. Tupelov’s jaw was set hard. After a moment, he smiled.

“So long as we understand each other, Major,” he said. “Thank you for your time.”

“You’re very welcome,” Boris said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

Tupelov saluted again. Boris returned it. Then the fierce general turned on his heel and strode to the door. He stopped and turned back.

“Good day, Major Davidov,” he said. “Think about what I said.”

“I already am,” Boris replied.

Tupelov nodded. Then he went out.

Boris collapsed into his chair. He had done his best to show the general no fear or subordination, but, now that he was gone, Boris wanted to vomit. He heard Tupelov’s threat very clearly. He was more certain than ever that Shadowcat was onto something with her investigation of
Operation: Hammerfall
. He prayed Tupelov didn’t know anything more about her mission. If he did, they were both in a lot of trouble.

 

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