“Wardens were serious about their security. Buloke? Isn’t that ironwood?”
“Correct, unless you’re carrying several M112 C-4 demolition blocks in a pocket somewhere, you’re going to need to try the runic combination.”
“How many permutations are possible with the current configuration of symbols?”
“Do you really want me to tell you?”
“Not really,” I said, drawing Sliver. “Energy is energy…right?”
“What are you proposing?”
“Can you run a charge through me and into Sliver?”
“Are you looking to overload your brain?”
“Not my brain,” I said. “This is just like an electrical system. Too much energy and it should overload the circuits causing the lock to open. I doubt they installed runic circuit-breakers.”
“I could cite several flaws with your theory, starting with the most obvious: the energy it would take to overload that door would probably incinerate your poorly functioning brain, not to mention destroy the rhythm of your heart, sending your system into an acute myocardial infarction.”
“We don’t have much of a choice, unless you want to try the combination?”
“The permutations would have us here for several lifetimes.”
“Right,” I said, shaking my head. “Short-circuit it is. Where is the locking mechanism?”
“To the left, one meter from the floor,” Cait said.
I plunged Sliver into the ironwood. Half the blade buried itself in the door before it stopped.
“Pretty soft for ironwood,” I muttered.
“I would imagine it has to do with the properties of the runed blade. Are you certain you won’t reconsider?”
“How much battery power do you have left?” I asked.
“I am at ninety percent.”
“That should be plenty,” I said. “If I go into cardiac arrest, administer defib with a simultaneous medkit.”
“That is not guaranteed to work.”
“Understood, but it’s the best we have at the moment.”
“The charge is prepped.”
I grabbed one of Thorn’s magazines, emptied the rounds into my pocket, and placed it in my mouth, biting down.
“Perfect, let’s do this.”
TWENTY-THREE
Serving as the conduit for runically enhanced electrical energy was one of my brightest moments, visually if not physically. The runes on the door, Sliver, and Thorn erupted with blue light. Ten seconds in, I was screaming around the magazine and hoping for death. Twenty seconds in, I reached for Thorn with my free hand, but couldn’t get to it. By the time I approached thirty seconds, I blacked out.
When I came to, I lay on the floor with the sharp taste of copper in my mouth.
“Defibrillation in three, two,” I heard Cait say from a distance.
“Cait, stop,” I said, weakly. Getting unsteadily to my feet. “How long was I out?”
“Welcome back, Ronin,” Cait said in a relieved voice. “You have been unconscious for eighty-seven seconds.”
“Did it…did it work?” I asked, looking at the ironwood door. “Because I don’t think I can go through that again.”
I pulled on the door, but it didn’t budge.
“Shit,” I said as anger, frustration, and despair crept into my voice. I looked down and realized I must have pulled out Sliver when I fell. The blade was jammed between the door and the floor.
I removed Sliver from under the door and sheathed it. I pulled on the handle and the door swung quietly open.
“It would seem your theory was sound,” Cait admitted. “I still think it was insane.”
“Energy is energy,” I said, my voice slightly raspy. “Let’s go find this fucker.”
<I don’t know what kind of opportunity we’ll have. The hacking at the door isn’t the work of a Wordweaver under control. That kind of damage tells me he may have anger issues. The moment you get a clear shot, you fire two of the subdermal discs into his throat, transmit the DAF, and prime the explosive charge.>
<An explosion at that range would destroy his larynx and possibly render him unable to speak, permanently.>
<I’m counting on it. Once the discs are in place, I need the egress route up immediately. We aren’t sticking around to chat.>
<He will pursue you, if only to destroy me.>
<I won’t give him the chance.>
<Then he will try to destroy you.>
<Not today.>
I drew Thorn and pushed the door open.
“Hello Ronin,” the man said. “I was actually expecting Grey or maybe Aria. Imagine my surprise when I discovered Division 13 tech pinpointing my location. Just goes to show, technology is a type of magic.”
The man held a large rune-covered handcannon pointed at my chest. I doubted that my dragonscale could stop a round from that weapon. The large storage area had been converted into office, lab, and living quarters. The leftover empty space on the other side of the floor looked like it was being filled by large, black, hazardous waste barrels. I scanned the area and easily counted fifty of them.
“Haran?” I asked.
“In the flesh,” Haran said. “Where are my manners? Drop your weapons on the floor, please. Backup gun too.”
When I hesitated, he fired the handcannon at the wall, three meters from where I stood. The thunderous discharge filled the room, leaving me partially deaf for a few seconds. The wall held a crater two meters in diameter, which glowed a soft blue.
“These are runed dragon round tracers,” he said with an even smile. “My own creation. They’ll go through your dragonscale suit without even slowing down. If you manage to survive getting shot by one of these, there is nowhere on this planet I can’t find you and end you.”
I did as he asked.
The tables around us were large marble slabs sitting atop thick marble bases. Some of the tables were covered with papers and notes. Others held several laptops with different programs displaying chemical diagrams.
Haran was dressed in a well-fitting, dark business suit. I don’t know why I expected a Wordweaver robe. Gold rimmed glasses framed his face, making him look scholarly. He kept his hair short and neatly cut. In other words he looked perfectly average, except his eyes. One glance into his eyes, and I saw the madness gibbering beneath the surface of his normalcy and for the first time since I entered the tunnels—I felt fear.
This was madness that didn’t, couldn’t listen to reason. His only purpose was to watch the world burn and burn with it. Fuck, this was much worse than I thought.
Haran was not the raving lunatic I expected. His insanity was the calm psychotic that coldly evaluates a situation and devises the most horrific solution imaginable.
I realized that the invention of Redrum was practice for him. He was moving on to bigger projects that would make every strain of Redrum, the summoning of a magekilling Tenebrous and every manner of hybrid creature, look like amateur hour.
“Haran,” I said keeping my voice even and modulated. “You don’t need to do this.”
“Did they teach you that in Division 13 training—that voice? Am I supposed to be lulled into submission? What are you going to say next? These are not the droids you’re looking for?”
“I was going to say that there are people being hurt by what you’re doing. You can stop this.”
“Of course I can stop this,” he sneered, raising the hand-cannon and pointing at my face, “but I’m not going to. Do you really think I care people are being hurt? What do you think I’m doing here—running a daycare center? I’m creating monsters. Monsters t
hat will feed on the cattle of humanity. And when they’re done, I’ll create monsters even the magic-users will fear.”
“They’ll stop you, even now people are tracking me and approaching this location.”
“Bullshit, Ronin,” Haran said. “I tracked you from the moment you stepped on the first ramp leading down here. No one is coming. Nice workaround on the door, by the way. For a second, I thought you’d barbecued yourself to death.”
“They’ll be here soon. Why don’t you surrender now while you still can?”
“Please remove your techbrace…slowly,” he said, ignoring me. “I would hate to remove your head from the rest of you. You can’t imagine the mess, but I won’t hesitate to do so.”
<Cait as soon as you get a clear shot…remember.>
<Understood.>
I removed Cait and moved to drop the techbrace on the floor.
“No, over here on the table,” Haran motioned with the hand-cannon. “I’ve never had an opportunity to examine such cutting-edge tech. Slow. I know those things have all kinds of defenses.”
I placed Cait on the table gently and he leaned over to take a better look. Nothing happened. My thoughts raced to Tigris. If they got their hands on Haran, the nightmares he could create with their backing and motivation froze my blood.
“This is just like a personal assistant,” I said. “No defenses or things like that. This one just has plain functionalities like calendars and phone numbers.”
“Really,” he said still leaning over. “I’m going to have to take it apart. Sadly, I don’t see much point in keeping you around. This”—he pointed to the techbrace with the hand-cannon—“is interesting. You? Not so much.”
He aimed the hand-cannon at me again.
“”You’re going to regret trying to kill me,” I said. “Why don’t you give yourself up?”
“Trying to kill you?” he asked. “I think you’re more insane than I am. I’m not trying. You’re dead. You just don’t know it yet.”
Cait fired the two discs into his throat. I grabbed Cait and leaped behind a table as he fired his hand-cannon in my direction.
“Whaaaat did youdotomeyoufuck?” Haran said. “Clever…cleeever you bastard. You’re using a delayed audi…audi..auditory fee..feedback signal to inter…interrupt my my speeech.”
“Only way I could think of neutralizing a Wordweaver,” I said over the next round he fired. “If you try to remove them, they’ll explode. No more speaking for you…forever.”
“Nice touch, but you underestimated me,” Haran said without impediment. “I’ll give you full marks for creativity. I’ll even let you remain conscious while I inject you with my new strain of Redrum. So you can have the full experience, you fucker.”
I made my way around the tables keeping low and out of sight. I was trying to work my way back to where Thorn and Sliver lay on the floor.
<Cait why is he speaking normally?>
<My signal is being jammed.>
<What about the explosive charge?>
<Without a signal they can’t be detonated, but they can’t be removed either. Severe seismic activity will cause the charge to detonate.>
<Time to go. Egress route?>
<No signal. No route. I hope you have a good memory.>
<Better than most. You still have the third disc?>
<Yes.>
<Eject it. How much seismic activity do I need?>
Cait released the small disc into my hand.
<Throwing it hard on the floor should detonate it.>
<Perfect. How far do you need to get to clear the jamming signal and detonate the discs?>
<Unknown. This far below ground I would need an unobstructed and clear line of sight.>
<Fuck, fine we distract, grab the weapons, and run for it. We should have gotten backup.>
<I don’t want to say I told you so.>
“Ronin, let me end this pain for you,” Haran said. “It can’t be easy being rogue. Everyone abandons you, the people you thought were friends, turning on you. Let me help you.”
I didn’t bother answering and giving away my location. Two tables away, on the floor, I saw my weapons. Haran was still walking the circuit of the room. I dashed forward and threw the disc in his direction. He dived behind a table avoiding the explosion, slid forward along the ground, and managed to get a round off.
The dragon round tracer bounced off one of the marble tables and slammed into my thigh, launching me forward. I ignored the searing pain, scooped up my weapons, and ran-limped out of the room. I looked down and realized a large chunk on the side of my thigh, about half the size of my fist, was missing. The wound glowed with the same soft blue light I saw in the wall crater.
“Nowhere for you to hide,” Haran said with a laugh. “You can run as much as you want. I will find you and end you.”
I started running.
TWENTY—FOUR
<Forget the egress route. These tunnels are networked through the city. Get us to the armature.>
<But you haven’t figured out the verse.>
<That round shredded my leg, through dragonscale, and with a ricochet. Let’s get to Astor Hall…now. You run possible meanings of the verse, while I try not to bleed to death on the way there.>
We moved for what felt like hours. I’d like to say I ran the whole way, but by the time we reached the exit closest to the library, I was pulling off an impressive Igor walk and using the walls for support.
“Ronin!” I heard Haran yell in the distance. The tunnels made it impossible to pinpoint what direction his voice came from. “What’s the rush? Wait for me.”
“Are you sure this is the exit that leads to Astor Hall?” I asked Cait.
I no longer possessed the focus to use silent communication. The exhaustion and blood loss were making for a deadly combination, impeding my cognitive functions.
<This is the exit. Hurry, he’s closing the distance.>
“Once we get topside, alert Honor and Rahbi. Hopefully, one of them can get there in time.”
I pressed open the door and stumbled into a short corridor. I stumbled-shuffled to the Hall.
“Ronin? Why run so much?” Haran yelled behind me. “All you’re going to do, is die tired.”
His voice was closer now. I heard the door to the Hall close behind him. I remembered from studying the schematics, that that door was the only entrance…and exit.
Astor Hall was a marvel of architecture. If I wasn’t being chased by a psychotic Wordweaver, or bleeding to death, I would’ve taken a few moments to appreciate the artistry of the wonderful marble that made up the Hall. As soon as the door closed, I noticed something off about the Hall, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I left a bloody streak along the pristine floor as I headed for the far stairs.
“Keep the medkits in my system, heavy on the coagulant.”
<Only if you’d like to suffer a stroke. With the volume of blood you’ve lost from your wound, going heavy on the coagulant will impede your blood circulation, while spiking the probability of a significant embolus. Put simply, too much coagulant will kill you.>
“Give me the verse again,” I said.
<A mage can be undone by force of will or lack of belief, but the cage will only function in the presence of the greatest thief.>
“Any ideas?” I asked. “I’m still not seeing it.”
<The mage line is self-explanatory. The line of the greatest thief has possible interpretations.>
“Well, we’re running short on time, I suggest you hurry up…oh, shit.”
<What is it? Talk to me Ronin.>
It all connected. I noticed the design in the center of the floor and made my way there. TK’s words came rushing back: I’m sure if you focus, you’ll understand it in time.
“She knew the answer all along and told me,” I said. “But I didn’t see it. Right in front of my face and I didn’t see it.”
“Hello Ronin,” Haran said as he entered the Hall. “Time to die.�
�
“You have no idea,” I said, and buried Sliver into the design in the floor.
The Hall exploded with a bright white light and Haran screamed as he fell to his knees. He dropped a small black box which I grabbed. The runes around the Hall pulsed with power as Haran was stripped of all magic. After several seconds, the runes lost their glow and faded from sight.
Haran stood up and smiled.
“All you’ve done is delay the inevitable,” Haran said, and fired his hand cannon. I raised my arm, covering my head, and really hoped I was right.
The rounds bounced off my dragonscale as I thought they would. As I had guessed, it was magic that made them dragonscale shredders. Stripped of magic, all they did was hurt as they bounced off my suit.
“You forgot I’m a Wordweaver?”
I was about to inform him that he had no access to magic, when the discs detonated. His larynx was destroyed immediately amid a spray of blood.
“Shit, Cait, he didn’t have magic!”
<That wasn’t me.>
“Call Roxanne! I need him alive!”
Haran fell to the ground, clawing at his throat, when he suddenly began to convulse and foam at the mouth. A few seconds later, his lifeless eyes stared up at me. His trickling blood slowly filled the grooves of the design beneath his body. Etched into the marble was a large clock face and at its center was a small hole. There lay plunged into it, Sliver. Around it, read inscribed in Latin: Focus In Tempore
“Fuck,” I said, quietly. “I needed him alive.”
<The discs did not possess enough explosive to create this much damage, even when inserted subcutaneously.>
I looked around but saw no one.
“Switch to infrared. If someone else is here, I want to know.”
I scanned the room and caught a small heat signature leading to the door I had used to enter the Hall. There was no way my or Haran’s signature would linger that long. Someone wanted to insure Haran never spoke again.
“We need to get you out of here before the authorities arrive.”
It was Honor.
Next to him stood Rahbi, wearing a large hooded cloak that covered her face.