Caldera had lost her grip on me when she fell, and I’d taken the opportunity to duck away. She came up to one knee, looking around; her gaze fell upon me. “Alex!” Caldera hissed. “Get here! Now!”
I crouched behind a tree and looked back at her silently. Caldera’s expression darkened. She rose to her feet and stepped towards me.
The night ahead of us went black in an oval-shaped pattern of space magic, masked and opaque. Caldera reacted instantly, moving to attack. A mage jumped through and walked right into Caldera’s punch. He got up a shield but the impact threw him twenty feet into the trees.
Caldera held her ground, blocking the gateway. A muzzle flash strobed from somewhere in the darkness, and bullets ricocheted from her skin. “This is Keeper Caldera!” Caldera snapped into her com. “I repeat, we are under—”
A black-and-green shape came out of the gateway, tall and slim and moving fast. Caldera struck and the figure slid aside; it lashed out and Caldera staggered and fell back. Then I felt the signature of air magic from above, spells lancing down.
I pressed myself against the tree, but the attacks hadn’t been aimed at me. I felt blades of air go whistling into the ravine and heard a man scream. Lightning flashed and in its strobe I saw more men running at me.
I hesitated an instant, weighing my options, then held my ground. Two men ran past with barely a glance; the third grabbed me and started dragging me back towards the gate. Shouts and gunfire sounded from all around us, bullets and spells flying back and forth in the darkness.
We’d made it all the way back to the gate when I caught a glimpse of Caldera. She was off to the right, engaged in a furious battle against two enemies at once; she was hurt but still upright, defensive spells a glowing halo to my magesight, and her eyes fell on me. I saw her expression twist in anger and she lifted a hand, aiming an attack, then a deathbolt slammed into her and knocked her off balance and before she could recover, the man with me shoved me through.
I staggered through into artificial light. I was in a wide square room, the floor concrete, rusted metal hanging down from above. Looking around, I saw half a dozen men. One was focusing on the gateway; all were dressed in dark clothing and masks; several were watching me. None spoke.
“Uh,” I said. I wasn’t sensing any immediate threat, but I was getting a bad feeling about this. “Hi.”
The men watched silently. Seconds ticked away. I knew that on the other side of the gate, a battle must be raging, but there was no sound. I looked to see what the men’s reactions would be if I tried to leave, whether through the gate or out of the room. Not good.
A new figure stepped through the gate and as it did, the futures changed. Suddenly there was danger, along with all kinds of chaotic outcomes, branching and multiplying from the figure walking towards me. It was hard to catch any details, but I tried to focus on him . . . her? . . . yes, her . . . and at least figure out who she . . .
Uh-oh.
The woman reached up and did something to her face. The spell masking her face dissolved, revealing another mask. It was a black silk domino, with short blond hair hanging behind it. The eyes behind the eyeholes were blue, but I didn’t need to look at them. I knew who it was.
“Hey,” one of the other men said. “We aren’t—”
“Shut up,” Rachel said as she smiled at me. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Hello, Alex.”
I didn’t reply. My divination has never worked well on Rachel—she’s too impulsive and too crazy—but somehow I was sure that anything I did say had the potential to go very, very badly.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been looking forward to this,” Rachel said. “I’d love to tell you what’s going to happen to you, but I really don’t want to deal with you trying to escape. So . . .” She walked forward, taking something out from a pocket.
There was nowhere to run and no point trying. I stood my ground, staring back at Rachel. She walked up to me and pressed something to my neck, and for a second time the world went black.
I drifted through darkness. Time passed.
Gradually I woke. It was a gentler process this time. No pain or nausea, just a slow, gradual transition from sleep to consciousness. Bit by bit I became aware that I was lying on a bed on my side, and that I was alone. I opened my eyes.
I was in a small bedroom. The bed was comfortable, with a wooden headboard, and an armchair sat against the far side of the room. Two windows were set into the wall, both covered with translucent curtains and radiating magic. There was a single door.
Experimentally I tried to move. Nothing stopped me; the handcuffs were gone. Touching my head, I realised that my injuries were, too. My head wasn’t hurting and neither was the rest of me: it was as if I’d never been hurt at all.
I swung my legs off the bed and sat up, then stood, testing my weight on the injured leg. There was no pain or stiffness; whoever had healed me had done a very good job. Rising and walking to the window, I drew back the curtains to reveal a view out onto a winter landscape. Snow covered the grass beyond the window and the trees farther back, and more snow was falling softly from a grey sky. The windows were treated with spells to ward off heat, as well as anyone trying to break through. It was all very cosy.
I didn’t feel cosy. I felt horribly vulnerable and exposed. Despite the comfort of the setting, all my instincts were telling me that my position was very, very bad.
I was in some kind of safe house or fortress, probably within a shadow realm. There was about a ninety-five percent chance that it was owned either by Richard, or by another member of his cabal. The fact that I’d been healed and left to wake up in comfort was positive; the fact that the door was locked and alarmed was not. Taken together, it looked as though I was about to be offered some kind of deal, probably the kind that carried very bad consequences if I said no.
I paced up and down. Too many things had happened too fast, and I was still feeling disoriented, like a boxer who’d taken too many shots to the head. The Council had found out about Anne. Arachne was gone. I was a prisoner, and probably Anne was too. Any one of those things was really, really bad, and I didn’t know how to fix any of them. Out of the three, Arachne being gone was probably the most survivable. I didn’t know how the dragon had taken her away, or where she’d been transported to, but she was alive, and probably safe. Which was more than could be said of us.
The Council finding out about Anne was a disaster. Both of us were probably already outlaws. The last time this had happened, we’d been saved at the last minute by an unasked-for favour from Morden. I didn’t think we could count on that happening again. What we had done this time was much worse, and the Council wasn’t going to forgive us, not ever. They were going to hunt us to the ends of the earth.
Of course, depending on the next couple of hours, the Council hunting us could be the least of our problems.
I sensed movement in the futures and steeled myself, turning to face the door. Here it comes.
The handle turned. Richard Drakh stepped through and shut the door behind him.
You’d never guess to look at him that Richard is one of the most powerful and feared mages in the British Isles. He has brown hair, dark eyes, a neutral sort of face with no distinguishing marks, and dresses in such a way as to look as nondescript as possible. It’s quite deliberate: Richard can easily catch people’s attention or intimidate them, but he deliberately chooses to fly under the radar. Until he suddenly doesn’t.