The Vitalis Chronicles: Tomb of the Relequim (13 page)

The Shadow King regarded it as the center of idiocy.

The few villages and smaller cities that fell under the protection of the city state paid for their protector's lusts in lawlessness and corruption. Few members of the Twelve City States would argue that it had fallen the farthest since the Magi had left to fight their war across the sea a generation before.

There was little that was considered illegal within her limits. Even what was considered illegal was rarely dealt with unless it stepped on the toes of some official or member of the upper class. It was often said if you wanted anyone killed, Liscentia was the place to get it done. And it was never said in jest.

The Shadow King was not here for pleasure, however. He was here for help, from the last reasonable source to which he could think to turn. This far south the weather was chilly, temperate even, though much of the desert had been freezing. He wouldn't have minded some snow. Especially now that it was raining.

The bright lights of the city's brothels and casinos blazed in the hazy blur above her low walls, breaking through the torrential downpour as he came over the ridge of a nearby hill.

He had decided to stay off the roads, though there was only one major highway between Liscentia and the cities to the north. Uncertain of how seriously he needed to take the idea of pursuit, he erred on the side of caution. There were few he feared in the world, fewer now than there had been a matter of months ago. Still, he would rather pass like smoke in the night than draw attention to himself.

The whole area to the south and east crawled with cattle. Fifty years ago those pastures had rolled right up to the city limits, but slums now claimed the area immediately under the sandstone walls. He was getting into more of the rough pastures that rimmed the north of the city now. It was the only industry that brought in more revenue than gambling and, being relatively conservative, the ranchers hated the gamblers. Though privately they found plenty of use for the local brothels, to be sure.

It felt good to leave the dry waste and sands of the desert behind. Liscentia sat right in the middle of it all. It was an oasis. It had been founded on the solitary significant source of water in all of the Lorendian Desert. And he had the sad luck to show up on the single rainy night of the year.

The city gates were open as he approached along the road. The shoddy shacks and rotted tents that bordered his path were falling apart in the onslaught of the clouds. They weren't made for weather like this. Thankfully the rain had driven the guards indoors. They were more concerned with their dice and card games than their duty in any case. And so the Shadow King walked into their midst without the slightest resistance. He smiled. This might be easier than he had imagined.

The main streets surrounding Swagger's Way were wild. Men and women congregated drunkenly outside or stumbled from one establishment to another. Every other business offered some form of gambling and almost all of them sold booze. Swagger's Way was the main street running along the northern half of the city. He had seen it once before and he didn't want to stay on it. The growth of the city had gone lopsided as Swagger's became a drain for all of her revenue.

He moved off to the right and down a side street through long rows of ill-maintained houses. A woman ran past him screaming and crying. She was being chased closely by a man who was hindered in his pursuit by the trousers around his ankles.

The sight almost made the Shade laugh aloud, but her plight caught him off guard. At one time he had been sworn to protect people like this. Against his better judgment, he intervened. He let the woman by, her laced bodice torn and threatening to fall off. As soon as the man went to pass, the Shade stepped in. He moved quickly, bringing his knee hard into the man's stomach. The man dropped into a puddle, coughing and sputtering as his hands gripped his abdomen. He stank in so many different ways the Shade couldn't be sure what the predominant source was.

He knelt and punched the man hard in the face, knocking him out cold before moving on.

“
Hey par'ner,” came a drawling voice from behind. “That weren' too kind of ya, kickin' a man
while he's down.”

“
More a punch there, Hank.”

“
Shut up, Larry.”

The Shade turned to see a group of men saunter into the narrow street. They were lightly armed with knives and clubs, all of them drunk. None of them were at the ready, just lumbering on in an overabundance of confidence. The Shade smiled.
Fool's Gate indeed
.

“
Now then,” said the one he presumed to be their leader, Hank. “I reckon you owe our buddy
Jimmy here a 'pology, ain't that right fellers?”

The gang of five grinned sloppily in agreement. The Shade just shrugged and smiled in turn.

“
Sorry gentlemen, my mistake.”

“
Damn straight you's sorry,” Hank said. “Not sorry as you's gonna be.”

The Shade smiled. “I think I'm about as sorry as I'll get
.”

The group had fanned out in the narrow street, the flanks advancing to encircle the Shade. He felt his heart rate pick up; the familiar adrenaline rush kicking in. God how he loved these feelings. Fighting could only be fun for humans; he had never felt anything when he was purely Shadow. Now he relished every opportunity.

“I think we can make you sorry. What if we b
eat the livin' shit outta you?” He harrumphed. Whether it was a laugh or a cough, the Shadow King never knew. “I think we jus' will.”

And with that they lunged forward, thinking to overwhelm this strange silver-haired man with brute force. The first thug to reach him tasted his own blood before he was done flipping under his feet. His shins hit the ground, stopping his rotation and forcing his head to snap back down; his nose slammed into the wet ground.

The second man wasn't so lucky to catch a punch as the Shade drew his long, elegant sword. He slit the man's chest wide open in a single, broad motion: his sword traveling from sheath to ready stance. The remaining three men slowed. Hank drew his gun in hopes of ending things quickly.

“
Holy shit, Hank! Bastard's got a sword!”

Which was the last intelligible thing Larry ever said. The sword in question lodged itself firmly in his neck before being pulled hard, grating out against the spine. The severed artery spurted blood in heavy gushes as he gargled a scream and dropped to the ground.

The Shade spun low. He dodged the inbound club and brought his biting edge up against the last remaining goon's belly. It sliced clean open and let loose warm guts intermingled with a dying howl.

Hank had his pistol out, hammer cocked back, and now he opened fire. The cloaked man walked towards him, sword at his side, brow lowered, eyes staring deep into his soul. Hank screamed as he emptied his rounds into the demon in the night. He hit nothing but distant walls and barrels.

“
Of the rules of war, the first is is 'know your enemy,'” the Shade said as he plunged the long blade clean through the gang leader's gut. He smiled as he gripped the man's wet vest with his free
hand. “One of my own is 'never underestimate the power of finesse over strength.'”

He twisted the blade and pulled up, killing the man and letting him slide slowly off and onto the ground. The Shade looked around, half expecting and half hoping for more trouble to follow. No one seemed to take notice as more guns fired in the distance. Whether they marked a celebration or the death of some other poor slob, the Shade didn't know.

He hadn't wanted to draw any attention to himself, and thankfully it looked like he hadn't. He held his blade out and watched it shimmer and disappear with his hand. The blood dropped through empty space where the sword had been and splashed into the puddle below. His hand and blade came back clean.

He sheathed the sword on his back and continued down the road. Pulling up his hood against the rain, he walked towards the Lorendian University of Liscentia. Nearing, he hoped, the answer to his conundrum.

N
INE

“
W
HAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN THEY'RE DEAD
?”
The chief of police put his coffee down in disbelief.

“
One of old Willy's boys found 'em last night by one of the brothels.”

“
You mean to tell me they're all dead?”

“
Yesir.” The officer shrugged. “All of 'em 'cept Jimmy. 'Course he got the tar kicked out of 'em. Found 'em nekked in the mud. He'll be a'right.”

“
Like hell he will. Get 'im in here so we can get some answers.”

“
He's over with the doc, sir. Still ain't woke up fully.”

“
Who the hell was it then? That old screw tooth, I wager.”

“
Can't've been, beggin' yer pardon sir. He's still locked up fer cheatin' the cards.”

“
Canter's boys?”

“
Nah, they was east, gamblin' at the Hillside.”

“
Two Tooth Teller's gang?”

“
They was in another fight in another part of town too, sir.”

“
Then who the hell was it?” He hit the desk, knocking his coffee mug onto the floor. It shattered and spilled the grimy liquid across the floor. Most of it drained through the warped wooden floorboards before they could do anything to stop it.

“
Damnit all to hell,” the chief muttered as he got down on a knee to clean it up.

“
Let me help you there sir.” The officer knelt to collect the broken porcelain. “The army's scoopin' up all the wretched bastards around town for the infantry. Makes me think it were someone new.”

“
You think?”

“
They was sliced up, like pigs in a butcher's shop, sir.”

“
Well who the hell slices people up then? We dun hung the Blade two years ago! And Wrigley ain't been seen for as long.”

“
D
unno sir, but one of the gate guards says a strange feller came in late last night. Dressed in a long black cloak, all alone. I reckon it's him.”

“
Hell, everyone has long cloaks 'round here.”

“
Not like this, at least not the way they described it. Sounds magic-like.”

“
Don't you go soundin' all queer now, too.”

“
Beggin' yer pardon sir, but there's reports of Elandir sendin' spies our way. Makes full sense they'd use somethin' queer to do it.”

“
Well what in sam hell are you doin' here then? Go find the bastard!”

“
Right so, sir. Not sayin' I'll try an' arrest him though.” The officer rubbed the coffee on his hands off on his vest, attempting to hide the shudder the thought gave him. “Don't feel like gettin' sliced up my own self.”

“
You'd damn well better arrest him! At least shoot him, elsewise it'll be me doin' the slicin'!”

The Shadow King watched and waited as the rising sun slowly illuminated the university. Golden veins of white grew until the granite pillars of the buildings around him shone. He sat as still as a gargoyle on the decorative ledge, leaning against the wall the surface sprouted from. It ran around the outside of the third story of what he supposed was a lecture hall. Liscentia had once been the cornerstone of education on the continent. Lorendian University had been considered unsurpassed among its peers. The greatest thinking minds had once come out of this school.

Now it provided little more than a haven for children to remain children. It produced few, if any, true free thinkers any more. Since the passing of the Magi there had been a rapid decline in the general desire for knowledge. The courses were geared much more towards training the next work force, producing something slightly above the level of your average drone.

The Shadow King rarely thought about such things. They were part of a life he had never led, paths to dreams he had never kept. It was a beautiful place though. Peaceful. The marble and broad grassy spaces between the halls had a calming allure. That much he could appreciate.

To its credit, the campus was one of the few places in the city that maintained a presentable appearance. The people liked to maintain the illusion of their former reputation.

He sat and waited, surveying a hall opposite him that he assumed was named after some former professor or benefactor. There were pipes running everywhere and vents practically covered every inch of its ceiling. If that hadn't been enough to tell him it was the scientific research department, the sign on the lawn certainly was.

Then his target appeared. A bulky man in a sweater, tie stuffed awkwardly underneath. His glasses looked like they were about to fall off of his upturned nose. The Shade couldn't help but wonder if this was really who he was looking for.

The man fumbled with the stack of books in his arms to get at his keys. He only dropped two of the books in the process. After a few awkward moments, he finally managed to get the door open and moved inside. The Shade didn't think any students would be coming soon. The sun had barely broken the horizon and he had only seen two other people on the whole campus. He jumped to the ground, falling silently and landing with an underwhelming thud. His cloak spread around him as it followed, fanning out as he stayed on one knee, hand outstretched for balance. He stood, drawing the long black cloak up with him and walked towards the research facility. It flowed gently behind each purposeful step.

He walked inside, thinking to jam the door handles shut with a nearby umbrella for a moment. He decided against it; better not to alert anyone arriving unannounced that something was awry. Only one of the branching halls had lights on; it was easy enough to figure out where to go next.

He didn't bother masking his approach; he just wanted to get in and get out. He rounded the corner into the adjoining hallway, half as long but lined with as many doors. One was cracked open, the light spilling out from beyond. He could hear the man fumbling with something in the room; the noise was hurried.