The Lostkind (58 page)

There was the sound of metal rasping, and a distant cry of pain; and the hold around his throat weakened slightly. Vincent came back to consciousness painfully, as his vision cleared, and he saw the Riverfolk that had dropped him in the middle of a knife-fight with a Shinobi in a hooded cloak. The second guard was already down, probably before either of them knew he was coming.

Vincent's vision was still blurred, but clearing; as the two warriors moved around each other like switch-blades, slashing in and out of reach.

The Shinobi ducked around to the Riverfolk's left, and the guard made a full bodied swing that left him completely out of balance. It was all the opening the ninja needed, driving his blade home in under the Riverfolk's guard.

Vincent's throat burned for a moment, as the hooded figure stalked over to him, and pulled back the hood. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Vincent choked on a short bark of laughter. "Dorcan?" He croaked. "I can't believe I'm happy to see you."

Dorcan pulled him up. "You picked a hell of a time to come and visit." He glanced back at the two dead guards. "We better get moving. They'll have friends coming for them soon." He gestured at the tunnel. "Go home."

"Dorcan, I'm staying."

"No you're not." Dorcan said directly. "There's a war going on down here."

"I know." Vincent took a deep breath determinedly. "I'm down here to win it."

Dorcan tried to hide the pity on his face. "Vincent, no offense, but what I've seen tells me that you wouldn't be much good in a fight."

"I agree." Vincent admitted. "I'm not here to fight this war, I'm here to end it. Tonight."

That
got Dorcan's attention, and the Shinobi stared at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Dorcan glanced around for a moment, and gestured for Vincent to follow him. "Hurry. This way."

They ran off down a side tunnel together, heading deeper into the Secret City. Vincent checked his watch.
Four hours left...

~oo00oo~

"I can't get over how normal this place seems."

"It's an old invaders trick." Dorcan explained quietly. "Make it seem like nothing has changed, so why would the conquered people bother complaining about it?"

Dorcan had led him to the Seven Steps. The Bazaar had reopened, and with more loads coming in every day.

"Back on the surface, there are pictures in the paper." Vincent said quietly. "Things stolen out of warehouses and supermarkets. They think it's gang crime, because all the crime scenes had a calling card." Vincent tilted his head toward one of the banners. "Vandark's Icon? That's the mark they left."

"He's breaking Rule Number One." Dorcan said viciously. "When we leave a glyph we put it places nobody ever finds them unless they're looking. Certainly places nobody would ever photograph and put on the news."

"You should make that point clear to people." Vincent said quietly, when he noticed a tiny figure scribbling on the walls.
Three Rules, Always.
Vincent read the Graffiti as the Gremlin ran for it. "Okay, so I'll just shut up then."

Dorcan grinned without mirth. "We tried to be more obvious about it. The plan was to have Archivist use those reasons; tell them he was alive, and end by inciting an uprising, so we could use the diversion to grab Yasi."

"Yasi's alive?" Vincent let out the breath like he'd been holding it for a year. The relief almost made him fall to his knees, as he started babbling. "God, I was afraid to ask, because I knew the answer wasn't going to be something I liked, and I knew that you would tell me the truth, and I'd still have to do this, and it'd be harder if I knew that-"

"Pull yourself together you idiot!" Dorcan hissed, almost holding Vincent upright. "People are looking." He grit his teeth. "The plan didn't work. Vandark took Yasi with him to the Whisper Gallery, and our brilliant idea to win a few hearts and minds ended with her watching her dad get gunned down."

"Did it help?" Vincent demanded, with far more intensity than Dorcan expected.

"Sort of. They're still not fighting, but they're not taking this lying down either. Archivist managed to get across what was really happening... Living in secret has all kinds of rules, but every Lostkind has the Big Three tattooed to the inside of their eyelids."

"Have the Riverfolk broken the Rules?" Vincent demanded swiftly. "There's graffiti all over the place with the Three Rules Slogan. Have the Riverfolk broken those three rules?"

"No; they wouldn't." Dorcan shook his head. "Just Vandark's guys. The Riverfolk are allies; but they're not really the same. They can't go much higher than Twelfth Level anyway."

Vincent grinned. "We might just have a chance here."

"What exactly
is
this big plan of yours?"

The tone of the crowd changed suddenly, everyone speaking faster and more often, but in hushed voices. It took a few seconds to notice it, but at the top of the Seven Steps, Vandark had arrived. Vincent felt his heart stop at the sight. Last time he'd seen this man, he was wearing casual clothes and a jacket. Now he was wearing a cloak and battle armor, surrounded by warriors.

He was terrifying. He was untouchable, in complete control, unafraid.

With a smooth charismatic smile on his face, Vandark's gaze swept over the crowd, and Vincent felt a wave of terror wash over him.
Did he see me? Does he know? I'm supposed to beat this guy? Come to his Throne and knock him off it?
Spastic laughter gripped Vincent's chest, and Dorcan elbowed him.
This is insane.

Vandark spoke, his voice was filled with power and confidence; rolling over those listening like a living thing. "The Underside has been fully repaired. The wounds of the last week are gone. The time of violence is over; and there are greater heights on the horizon. More than rebuilding, we will prosper. Already, you're seeing the signs. Who can deny that your needs are not only being met, but being excelled? Every man woman and child here will not only eat, but eat gloriously. You will not only have places to live, but I will make them palaces. New York is ours now. Pick any prize, any work of art; and I will bring it to you. This is the start of Utopia."

"My Lord!" A voice called out. "My name is Lasa. Today I ate crème brule, when I would have been happy before with dry bread."

A low murmur broke out as the man who spoke jumped up, climbing the stairs toward Vandark. "Today I left my chamber, and when I returned I looked at all the new things brought in. Treasures I never would have considered. I never would have thought we could have so much."

Vandark was pleased. "Lasa, my friend... There's only better to come!"

"My son would have loved to see the future of this place." Lasa called out powerfully, as a knife slid out of his sleeve into his waiting palm. "His name was Tyla. And you blew him up to get through the Throne Room last week."

Everyone yelled and ducked to the floor as the man hurled the knife toward Vandark, close enough that Vincent could see the spinning blade. Vandark's guards were too far away to react in time, but Vandark didn't even duck. Everything seemed to drop into slow motion for a moment...

Vandark moved, and when his hands clapped together, it was like a crack of thunder in the suddenly silent cavern.

Everything. Froze.

Lasa was still standing with his arm extended from the throw. Vandark had his hands together in front of his face, having caught the thrown knife flat between his palms. For an endless millisecond, everyone just stared at the unhurt Lord of the Underside with their jaws hanging open.

A moment later, Vandark threw the knife back; flipping end over end as it caught Lasa square in the chest. The would-be assassin went sprawling down the steps and chaos broke out instantly. Those closest to Lasa tried to stop the Riverfolk from getting to him, the Riverfolk tried to pull the crowd out of the way; and things erupted instantly into a full scale riot over three levels of the Seven Steps.

Vandark actually looked sad. "We have a lot of work to do." He said calmly, and stalked off the way he came. Yasi was being dragged behind him, kicking and clawing for all she was worth.

Vincent turned away, unable to look... And came nose to nose with Owen. His former co-worker had a fierce look on his face, and the two Riverfolk coming behind him didn't look happy either.

"Run!" Dorcan hissed, and Vincent turned from Owen, trying madly to keep up with the Shinobi as the guards chased after him; all of them desperately trying to push their way through the chaos.

"Get'im!" Owen shouted, barely audible over the crowd.

The crowd pushed against them without being aware of their presence. The two of them forced their way through, getting buffeted back and forth by the riot.

"We can't go up!" Vincent shouted as loud as he could, barely able to hear himself.

Dorcan nodded. "Not toward Vandark! Down!"

The two of them fought their way toward the staircases, and quickly realized they wouldn't make it. The pursuing Riverfolk were shoving their way through, strong enough to toss people out of their way, heedless of the damage they were doing. One of them got caught in the middle of the riot, jumped on by three of the out-of-control Lostkind. The other kept coming.

"Jump!" Dorcan shouted, and the two of them fought their way to the edge of the level, jumping over the side. They fell hard through the canopy of a market stall on the next Step down, and Dorcan got to his feet first; hauling Vincent up. "Come on!"

They pushed through the crowd, as the Riverfolk took their chance to jump down to chase after them, getting closer.

"We can't drag them through the crowds." Dorcan shouted.

"I agree!" Vincent shouted back. "We're gonna get killed if we stay and fight here."

"Yup." Dorcan shouted over to Vincent. "Sorry about this!"

"About what?" Vincent shouted back, and Dorcan struck. He grabbed Vincent by the belt, and the shoulder; hurling the stunned New Yorker off the Step, far enough to reach the River below.

Feet first, he exploded into the water, shocked by how cold it was; sinking down. A moment later, Dorcan did the same. A Riverfolk dove in after them, terrifyingly at home beneath the water. It's curved feet and webbed finger-gloves made swift work of the water, gliding toward the two of them like a shark.

Dorcan shoved Vincent to the side, and pushed off the side of concrete wall with one boot, hurling himself back toward the Riverfolk. They collided in the water and wrestled, spinning around and around in close quarters, flipping over and over in the water, until Vincent couldn't tell them apart.

Suddenly they broke, and Vincent could see the Riverfolk sinking, as Dorcan was hauling along a small tank with a mask on it. The mask was trailing air bubbles.

Vincent was overjoyed as Dorcan pushed the mask against his face, and then took a breath for himself.

Through hand signals, Dorcan gestured for Vincent to stay below the water. This proved easy as the weight of his gear was dragging him downward.

Another breath, and Vincent let Dorcan pull the ruby red goggles off the top of his head and put them on. Vincent realized that the goggles didn't just work in the dark, but in the water too.

Another breath, and Dorcan started towing him along the bottom of the River. Vincent became aware of a current and squeezed his eyes shut as the icy water became darker.

There was no telling how long he pulled them along, and Vincent was starting to worry, wondering how long the single small tank shared between them would last. He hadn't even seen it carried by the enemy guard Dorcan had dispatched, though he was sure all the Riverfolk had to carry them.

Dorcan dragged them further, until their direction changed, pulling him upward; and Vincent fairly exploded out of the water; spluttering for air. He slipped back under the surface a moment as Dorcan released him, and levered himself up out of the water. Vincent kicked, the boots and the coat dragging him down; and Dorcan hauled him up.

They were silent for a long moment, spluttering for air.

Dorcan pulled the mask off his face and held it up. "There's enough left for the return trip. Scuba-divers use an oxygen/nitrogen mix to avoid pressure sickness. The Riverfolk use something similar."

"Are we clear?" Vincent gasped out, gripping the step. "They're not coming after us?"

"You have a plan, right?" Dorcan shook the water off as he climbed out. "I mean, this little game
is
going somewhere? It would be a real shame to get killed now."

"I know." Vincent promised him. He suddenly noticed the room Dorcan had led him to. The air smelled fresh and clean, but it was noticeably humid in the large chamber. The lights were bright and warm; but muted by the endless hanging vines that seemed to cover every inch of the chamber. The floor was covered in moss and dead leaves, making it seem more like a real, natural place. Unlike the art deco nature of the rest of the Underside, this was a thick lush jungle crammed into the space of a large living room.

Vincent turned to look, and his jaw dropped. "What is this place?"