The Vitalis Chronicles: Tomb of the Relequim (14 page)

The Shade continued walking and pushed the door open. To his surprise the man was pointing a cluster of three pipes at him as he walked in.

“
Who are you?” the researcher's voice wavered as he made his stand.

The Shade, for his part, was not expecting a welcome like this.

“I wouldn't–” A stream of liquid shot out of one of the tubes, igniting into a dense spout of fire.

He tried to make the jump, hoping to leave the flames behind, but found with a shock that he couldn't. He spun back into the hallway, the flames catching him in the shoulder as he did so.
He threw his cloak off to keep the fire at bay, burns tearing at his skin. The temperature in the hallway skyrocketed. Why couldn't he jump?

“
This is the last chance I'm giving you to walk out of here, mister!”

“
I'm not leaving until I've talked to you.” The Shade worked to keep his tone even. God, this was infuriating.

“Like the last guy who came 'just to talk?'” The man's voice was quivering, pulsing with adrenaline the Shade realized. “I don't think so!”

“What 'last guy?'”

“
I don't even know who you are!”

“
I know who you are, and that should suffice, Craster.”

The name gave the researcher a moment's pause, but only served to deepen his suspicion.
“
You're
one of them, aren't you?”

“
One of who, Craster?”

“
Stop using my name! Stop using my goddamned name!”

“Who came to talk?
”

“
One of those Hunters, those bastards from Elandir.”

“
I'm not–”

“
You're dressed like one!”

The Shade had to keep his mouth shut on that; no point trying to correct the man. The dark leathers of the Hunters were close enough in appearance to his own, he supposed. At least to the casual observer.

“
I promise you, I'm not.”

“
Well I don't have what they wanted, ok? I don't have it so leave me alone!”

“
What did they want, Craster? A shelter?”

“
Yeah, how did you know that? How could you possibly know that if you weren't one of them?”

The Shade was already scanning the area for any signs of it. He knew why he couldn't jump. He hadn't thought he would ever run into another shelter outside of Elandir. The things were delicate, prickly even. Maintaining them cost more than feeding half a battalion. After the Purge, the threat of the Shadow had been thought to be extinct, and where there had once been hundreds of shelters, only a few remained. He had actively sought to have them discontinued and destroyed after assuming Silvers' identity. Apparently he hadn't managed to get them all. That was how it always seemed to work.

And if anyone would have an active shelter, it would make sense that the apprentice of their creator would. He shouldn't have been so careless. And now the only way out was across the open door. The shock of the fire was the first time he had been genuinely afraid for his life in a long, long time.

“
I'm not one of Khrone's, Craster. And I know you have a shelter.”

“
How do you know that then? Huh? How could you possibly know if I have one?”

“Call it a hunch
.” He spun into the room as he said it. He had seen the thick red power cables
entering through the ceiling earlier. Now he threw his sword for the circuit breaker he knew would be there. The flames jumped out to meet him instantaneously. It was a huge risk, but he was out of options. Sparks flew from the box and his gamble paid off as he jumped into the metaphysical realm. The flames passed, just a vague whisper of energy rolling through him.

He continued swiftly past the researcher, who by now was certainly panicking. He jumped back to the physical behind the man, gone for only seconds. Without saying a word he closed off the gas line running from the tank to the makeshift flamethrower. The squeaking drew the researcher's attention who spun and shot at the Shade, but he was already vanishing. The flames ran out quickly now, little more than a burst. Before Craster could get to the tanks he found a long slender blade resting against his throat.

“
How about we have that conversation now?”

It took the researcher a long time to calm down, but the Shadow King waited patiently. This wouldn't be the type of man to be pressed for answers, that much was obvious. He was the kind of coward that would only crumble under pressure. Weak of mind in spite of his mind being his greatest attribute. He looked like he was about to burst into tears as he sat shaking in his chair.

The Shade took it as an opportunity to assess him as bits of flaming paper fell to the floor and died out. He grabbed his cloak from the hallway, brushing it off before he put it back on. The researcher's rolling chair was missing one of its five casters. The back and seat were covered in a fake green leather that had long since dried and begun to crack. There were drawings and sketches covered in formulas and equations he couldn't even begin to read. It looked like half of them had been burned or blown off the wall by the last blast of fire.

He wasn't tidy, that was certain. But there was a clear method to the madness. Even the mess of papers tacked to the walls seemed to ebb and flow like a vertical, curling river. He didn't take much care of his office, or even himself, as the stains on his clothing betrayed. But his tools and equipment were immaculate. There was brilliance here, even if it was accompanied with a touch of eccentricity.

And something else. A long pink scar ran down the side of his face from under the gray at his temples; it was freshly healed by the look of it. Whoever had come to 'talk' with him last must have left him in his current state.

The Shade sat on one of his work benches, placing a black boot on the stool beneath him as his cloak flowed over the edge. He rested his elbow loosely on his knee, watching the researcher called Craster quiver and calm until he thought he might talk.

“
Your mentor was the man who invented
MARD
, was he not?”

“
Yeah.” Craster's red eyes shifted, looking around as if he might spot ears in the walls. He sniffled. “I mean, yes. Metaphysical Atmospheric Repulsion Devices. Made to keep the Magi from using their power...”

“
And before he killed himself he was working on reproducing that power, the power of the Magi, through a similar method, was he not?”

“
Yes. He always thought if he could reverse the process and focus it, he might be able to replicate their power. But... but he never completed the work.”

“But you're following the same path, aren't you?
”

The man began to shake visibly again, shrinking back into his chair as if afraid of being struck. “I haven't managed it,” he blurted. “I gave up years ago.”

“
I don't believe you.”

“
I swear it!” he squealed. “I lost my funding almost a decade ago! They said I hadn't made enough progress, that it wasn't worth the money now that the Magi were dead and gone.”

“
But you could have completed it...”

“
No. I mean yes!” Richard took off his glasses to clean them between fumbling fingers. “I mean maybe. I don't know any more. I thought I could have, but they were right. I was hardly making any progress. The math... the math involved was beyond anything anyone has really worked through. And his scribblings... I could barely understand half of them. And no one pays for real research any more!” He was lamenting now. “They think that keeping this place clean and presentable is enough to pull the city back up to some level of respectability. But it isn't! Not when the walls hold nothing but musty air and unread books!”

“
Can I see them?”

“Can you... the books?”

“The papers. Your predecessor's papers.”

“Oh.” The man perked up a little. “Yes... yes.” He hurried over to a desk covered in books and loose papers, shoving a whole pile to the ground in his rush to please his captor. After a fair amount of digging he produced three tattered old notebooks. Each looked like it had been tossed underfoot a few times for good measure.

“
Here.” He thrust them towards the Shade. “If anyone should have them it's one sworn to protect the Magi.”

The Shade took the notebooks, looking at the man sideways as he did so.

“
You sympathize with the Magi? Even after all your master's work to undo them?”

“
Sure,” he said still shaking. “I mean, it's weird to think of him as my 'master.' But the Magi, without them, where would we be? Where would I be? They taught us practically everything we know
about science, the way we research, statistics... I just wish they'd stuck around long enough to help us
get a handle on stuff like that.”

He gestured to the books in the Shade's hand, who in turn flipped through their pages. In here was the key to the power he was looking for. He doubted he could manage it. If this man had spent decades of his life on it, what hope did he have to crack it in a matter of months?

“
This will have to do,” he said as he slid them into a pocket in his cloak. The leather armor underneath creaked as he pushed them down into place.

“
How did you do that?” the man asked, curiosity finally winning out over fear.

“
Do what?”

“
Get rid of the burns? Your armor looks... it looks like you were never even singed.”

“
Tricks of the trade.” He stood up to leave, doubting there was anything else he could dig up
here. “And do me a favor,” he said as he walked out the door. “Burn that shelter.”

He walked back out into the hallway and started to turn the corner before he heard the researcher shouting for him. He turned his head back towards the man just as his shoulder was caught by a massive impact. He slammed to the ground and slid into the door behind him before he knew he had been hit.

“
Oh God!” The researcher ran to him and knelt down. Broken glass shattered as it fell lazily to the floor at the far end by the entrance. The crack of a single gun shot resounded in the distance.

The Shade groaned, tenderly touching the spot where he had been shot. He chided himself silently for letting his guard down. The researcher watched with wonder as the shoulder wavered and disappeared.

“What on... how do you do that?” Craster looked on in disbelief.

It took a minute longer than the flames had, but soon the shoulder reappeared whole.

“Did they make the material especially to disappear too?”

“
Yes.” The Shade grunted and rolled back into the side hall to avoid giving whoever was outside a second shot. “Everything we wear and carry was made to travel with us between states. It's practically an extension of who we are.”

“And my books?” Craster looked like he might cry at the mention of the notebooks.

“We can even carry small objects with us if they're properly stowed.”

“Well
I was trying to tell you,” the researcher stammered. “None of my assistants have arrived
yet. They should have been coming in by now.”

“
Fantastic.” The Shade stood and edged towards the hallway.

Silence wandered through the long hall and expanded until it consumed the building. He glanced slowly around the corner. Police, and lots of them. He turned back to the researcher.

“
They don't have any shelters out there do they?”

“
I can't say for certain. As far as I know mine are the last.”

“
Like I said.” The Shade pulled his sword off his back. “Burn them.”

With that he turned and walked down the hallway.

“
Fine shot there, boy!” The officer who had been sent to find the murderer slapped his sharpshooter on the shoulder. He was in a decent mood. They would never have found the cloaked man if they hadn't been called by one of the university's groundskeepers. “Alright ya'll, c'mon out! Let's go see who this sum'bich is.”

“
Sir?” The sharpshooter stood up. “I ain't sure I got 'im.”

“
Sure you did son, spun him right round on his ass.”

“
I know sir, begin' yer pardon, but I only got his shoulder. Could'a been the wrong guy.”

“
Dark cloak, long hair, fits the description. If it weren't him, well, it is now. Paperwork's shorter that way.” He laughed and raised his arm.
“
C'mon boys, gotta get this place back in order! Gotta get these kids back to school. They gots 'em learnin' to do!”

The officer deflected his subordinate's caution with sarcasm. He had never been able to afford the education his own city provided. And while he told himself he hated her students because they were soft, part of him knew it was envy.

There were easily thirty deputies with them. They wore ratty uniforms and outfits in varying shades of brown. At the officer's call they came out of hiding from behind trees and bushes. They were a rag-tag bunch, but then again the police force in this town simply represented its populace. When they weren't fighting, drinking, or stealing, they were content to play police.

They did stand out from their surroundings though. The nicely kept green lawns and marble pillars around every tall white building were reminders of better days. Days that threatened to be lost forever.

“
Course I reckon we's gonna have to get that window re-paired.” He snickered. “Thompson! Get
that glass smith on the horn, would ya?”

“
Yes sir,” the man called Thompson chuckled. The university would be lucky if broken glass was all they had to pay for after this visit.
“
Any other ways outta this buildin' sir?”