Cloak Games: Rebel Fist (22 page)

I guess even the metal of the Shadowlands did not care for the Dark Ones. 

It was surprising, but I didn’t let surprise slow me down, and I kept squeezing the trigger, emptying the clip at Rogomil. I missed three times, but the other five shots hit him in the chest and stomach, and he fell backwards onto a rusted table, the weakened metal collapsing beneath his weight. As he did, the storm of black fire vanished, and I saw that both Nora and Corvus were still alive, though their faces were drawn with strain, their limbs trembling with fatigue. 

A strange, glassy calm came over me. 

I walked through the ruined food court, loading the second clip of Shadowlands bullets into my gun. Rogomil lay upon the broken table, some of the metal shards stabbing into his back. He was still alive, shivering as shock came over him. The only reason he hadn’t bled out was because the molten bullets had cauterized their wounds. Of course, I suspected that organ failure would soon kill him.

“I…I surrender,” rasped Rogomil.

“What?” I said.

It was a flat, harsh sound. I didn’t recognize my own voice.

“I surrender,” said Rogomil. “I renounce the Dark Ones. The…the Shadow Hunters have to take me, if I repent. I…”

“Hey,” I said, smiling at him.

I remembered all the pregnant women and little children I had seen in the mall. All the corpses lying outside the State Capitol in Madison. 

“Hey,” I said again. “Remember what you told me in Madison?” He stared at me in bewilderment. “How you’d kill ninety percent of the human population so the other ten percent could live free of the High Queen?”

Rogomil’s mouth worked. 

“Sucks to be in the ninety percent, doesn’t it?” I said.

He started to shout something, but I pointed my gun at his head and squeezed the trigger until the gun clicked empty and he was dead. The bullets didn’t melt this time, so when my gun ran out of bullets there wasn’t much left of his head. Evidently having holes burned into your chest makes it hard to wield dark magic. I stared at his corpse, and then kicked it as hard as I could. 

That felt really good, so I did it again. And then one more time. 

I kind of lost count of the kicks for a minute or so after that. 

“Miss Moran.” 

I blinked and looked up, breathing hard, as Corvus stepped next to me. He looked tired and grim, the lines of his Shadowmorph twitching on his jaw, but otherwise unhurt.

“We should take the Eye and depart,” he said. 

“Yeah,” I said, looking at Sergei Rogomil. I considered him for a moment, then spat upon what remained of his head, and walked away without looking back. 

The Eye still rested upon its metal table, untouched by the maelstrom of dark magic that had washed through the food court. I hesitated, then picked the thing up. It was about as heavy as a bowling ball, and I needed both hands to lift it. The crystal flared once and went dark, turning a dull gray color, though the strange black pupil remained in the center of the sphere, and I could not shake the feeling that the Eye was watching me. 

If Morvilind wanted the damned thing, he could have it.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said.

Chapter 12: Numbers

After everything we had gone through to get that sphere, handing it over to Morvilind proved anticlimactic.

He took one look at the Cruciform Eye, nodded his approval, and said that I had performed in a satisfactory manner. One of his mercenaries took the Eye, and Morvilind and the rest of his retainers climbed into the van and drove off, leaving me, Corvus, and Nora standing in the wreckage of the parking lot. 

“How rude,” said Nora. “He didn’t even say goodbye.” 

“The sooner I see the back of him, the better,” said Corvus. He had pushed my motorcycle out of the mall. It had taken a few scratches to the paint and some scorch marks on the chrome of the tailpipes, but it was otherwise intact. Given all the death and destruction that surrounded me, I suppose it didn’t speak well of me that I was relieved, but I was relieved nonetheless.

A lot of people had died. Damned Rebels.

Still, I felt a vicious satisfaction as I thought of Sergei Rogomil. I wondered if the Dark Ones were eating his soul right now. James and Lucy and Russell believed that Jesus took the souls of those who believed in him to paradise.

Somehow I doubted the Dark Ones were as generous to their followers. 

“I’ll see him again,” I said, watching Morvilind’s van pull away. “All too soon.”

“He did not kill you,” said Corvus. 

“Looks like you were right,” I said. “He has a new toy to hold his attention. At least until some other bauble catches his eye.” I shook my head. “You said you had a question for me? Well, you kept your side of the bargain. Russell’s safe, the rift ways are closed, and the High Queen isn’t going to nuke the city.” 

“Not here,” said Corvus, and he passed me the keys to my motorcycle. “There might still be orcish soldiers stranded in the mall.” He looked around. “Meet us at that gas station on the other corner. That should be safe enough to talk.” 

I nodded, swung onto my bike, and started the engine. Corvus and Nora returned to their van, and I followed them across the street to the gas station. It was still dark, and I saw only a single emergency light within the gas station, shining upon rows of beef jerky and mints. It looked like a perfect hiding place, but I suppose orcs would have a hard time sneaking up on a pair of Shadow Hunters. 

The van stopped next to me, and I climbed off my bike as Nora and Corvus emerged.

“You know,” said Nora, “that is really quite a nice motorcycle.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Do you have one?”

“Oh, no,” said Nora. “I would find the experience too frightening.” 

I laughed. “Given that we fought orcs and anthrophages and Archons today, you have a peculiar sense of fright.”

Nora grinned, her teeth flashing in the gloom, but said nothing. 

“Before the question,” said Corvus, stepping toward me and reaching for my face, “I promised you this.”

I had a brief vision of him leaning down and kissing me, but instead he touched my right temple. There was a jolt of magical power, and the knowledge of a spell flashed through my thoughts. It was a ward, complex and intricate, but not nearly as powerful as the warding spell the Knight of Grayhold had taught me. Yet it was much more complex, and I suspected each single casting would last longer. 

“That spell,” said Corvus, “will keep you from leaving a trail of telepathic spoor. Cast it once a day, and it will last for twenty-four hours. I suggest casting it every morning when you awaken. Do so consistently, and the anthrophages will find it much harder to track you.” 

“Thank you,” I said. “That’s…that will be really helpful. Like the lightning spell you taught me.” I shrugged, uncomfortable and unsure of what to say. “Um…thank you.”

“You can repay me,” said Corvus, “by answering a question.”

I nodded. “Okay.” 

“When we first met,” said Corvus, “I thought you had been coerced into assisting a cult of the Dark Ones. Now I know you work for Morvilind.” I nodded once more. “The Shadow Hunters have long feared that the cult of the Dark Ones and the Rebels might become allies, and today’s events prove it. I will have to carry word of this to the Firstborn.”

“Okay,” I said again, “but what is the question?”

Corvus glanced at Nora for a moment, and then back at me. 

“Have you ever heard,” said Corvus, “of a man who calls himself the Forerunner?” 

“The Forerunner?” I said, and my mind flashed back to that awful day in Madison. “Yeah. Just once, recently.”

“Where and when?” said Corvus. 

“Madison, on the day Rogomil tried to assassinate Jarl Rimethur,” I said. “Some of his thugs caught me. Rogomil punched me a few times, and started showing off his magic. He said,” I frowned, trying to remember, “he said that the Forerunner had shown him the way to victory, that the Forerunner had taught him this magic.”

“I see,” said Corvus, sharing another look with Nora.

“So who’s this Forerunner guy?” I said. “I take it he’s not a friend of yours.”

“No,” said Corvus. “He is a wizard, ancient and powerful. The Shadow Hunters believe that he founded the cults of the Dark Ones upon Earth.” 

I frowned. “But you told me the Void Codex had been written in fifteenth century Germany.”

Corvus nodded. “Likely the Forerunner is the one who dictated it to the cults of the Dark Ones. The Firstborn believe that he is at least as old as human civilization, and founded cults devoted to the Dark One in every nation and every empire in human history.” 

“Then you’re looking for him?” I said. 

“The Shadow Hunters have been looking for him since we were founded soon after the Conquest,” said Corvus. “The High Queen, too. I had hoped that you might lead him to us.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” I said.

To my surprise, Corvus laughed. “Not at all. I would not wish for anyone to be in the Forerunner’s thrall. And my time with you has been profitable. We destroyed a Dark One cult in Milwaukee…and we have just saved the lives of everyone in the city.”

“Yeah,” I said, making myself smile. “Profitable.” It stung a little. I had thought that he was attracted to me. Well, I must have been fooling myself. God knows that when it comes to men my judgment is not the best. I didn’t want to surrender any power over myself…but I was becoming willing to surrender a little of it to Corvus.

Well, it was for the best that I had been wrong.  

“Goodbye, Miss Moran,” said Corvus. “Thank you again for all the help.”

“Thank you for the spells,” I said. “The lightning globe has saved my life many times.”

“Keep practicing,” said Corvus, walking around the van. “Eventually your aim will get better.” 

I snorted and shook my head. 

“Farewell, Miss Moran,” said Nora, and she gave me a handshake. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You’re very kind,” I said.

“Oh, no, I’m really not, tigress,” said Nora. “Be seeing you around, I think.” 

She grinned, climbed into the van, and drove away with Corvus. 

I watched them drive off, then let out a deep breath and fired up my motorcycle. 

###

About a week later I stood in the Marneys’ living room, or what was left of it, wearing an old sweatshirt, a baseball cap to keep my hair out of my eyes, jeans, and heavy work boots, a hammer in my hand as I helped rebuild the wall. To my great surprise, the house had not been condemned. Given all the reconstruction that was going on in Milwaukee, the price of contractors had shot through the roof, so James had decided to turn the rebuilding into a family project. He had plenty of volunteers from his Homeland Security battalion, who had apparently been impressed by his leadership during the fighting at the rift way. Three more orcish attacks had come through the gate while I had been fighting Rogomil at the Ducal Mall, and James and his men beat back every one of them.

That was a much higher success rate than the late, unlamented Colonel Wilburn had enjoyed. 

Lucy had left a radio on in the corner, and I listened with half an ear as I drove nails into the beams. I had wondered if the Inquisition and the Department of Education would cover up everything, the way they had in Madison, but there had been too much damage and too many witnesses. 

Too many dead and injured and crippled.

So, instead, the Inquisition and the Department of Education took the opposite approach. 

VICTORY IN MILWAUKEE, the news sites and videos declared, lauding the heroic resistance of Milwaukee’s men-at-arms and Elven nobles, the men and Elves who had fought valiantly to defeat the invasion of the depraved Archons and their savage orcish mercenaries. Patriotic music played non-stop, and every news site and every video channel showed coverage of the fighting, all of it edited to portray the battle as a smashing victory for the High Queen and her nobles. Duke Tamirlas distributed medals liberally, and I had watched from the rear of the auditorium as he had pinned one upon James’s chest. 

Well, at least James deserved it. Of course, James was a doctor and Lucy was a nurse, so they had been spending most of their time as the hospital lately. That left me and Russell to work on the rebuilding, since school would not resume until next week and I didn’t technically have a real job. 

“I’m going,” announced Russell, heading for where the front door would have been.

I frowned at him. “Where?”

He gave me an innocent look. “James and Lucy said it was okay.”

“Where?” I said again. 

“Um,” said Russell. “Lydia and I are going to go see a movie.”

I sighed. “Fine. Tell her that Natalie says hi.” 

Russell grinned, hugged me, and darted out the door. A moment later I saw him on his bike, pedaling furiously. Fourteen seemed too young for him to have a girlfriend. Of course, I suppose our parents had gotten married at eighteen. A lot of people did. 

And I was glad the events of the last week had not aged him too much. 

I worked in silence for a while, pounding nails into the beams as my mind wandered. Morvilind had not contacted me since the fighting at the mall, nor had he summoned me. I was fine with that. I suppose I ought to enjoy the peace and quiet for now. I wondered if…

The rumble of an engine caught my attention, and a car pulled up in front of the house. I frowned and peered through the framework of wood, stepping towards the gun I had left concealed under a plastic tarp. The door opened, and a tall man with a shock of brown hair got out of the car, clad in jeans, a T-shirt, and a battered leather jacket, wrap-around sunglasses covering his eyes.

It was Corvus. 

I smiled to myself and walked across the lawn. 

“You know,” I said, “whenever you show up, I get into a lot of trouble. So what the hell is going to happen now?”

He stopped a few paces from me. “It depends. Have you been casting the concealment spell?”

“Every day,” I said. “Take one a day, and call your doctor if any anthrophages appear.”

He frowned, and then realized I was joking. “I am glad to hear it.”