Chapter 44 - Baliero

Name:Matabar Author:


Elver, whose unimposing frame seemed even slighter beneath his worn clothes, was nervously smoking a cigarette by his car. The vehicle — a battered old Derks model that must have been repaired countless times — sported mismatched passenger doors, a dented front fender, and a crooked rear bumper. And yes, over the past month, Ardan had made an effort to learn the ins and outs of cars. This hulking machine, with its almost square cabin and exhaust pipe big enough to double as plumbing somewhere, was probably about eight years old. It had cost Elver a reasonable 650 exes and, unlike the luxurious models the wealthy drove, came in only one basic configuration.

It had a top speed of just thirty kilometers per hour and an engine with around seven horsepower. Ardi still didn’t quite understand what that term actually meant — it seemed to describe the force needed to lift a certain load straight up.

"Are you sure that, if it comes down to it..." Milomir said, waddling over with the elegance of an overfed house cat. He nudged the gray rim of one of the car’s tires with the tip of his shoe. "This old lady will hold up, Elver?"

"The main thing is that I’m sure," Lisa chimed in as she sauntered past them. Gathering the hem of her dress, she opened the driver’s side door, slid in behind the wheel, and turned the ignition.

Immediately, something under the hood roared awake, a sound reminiscent of a starving bear roused from winter’s deepest dark.

"Impressive," Milomir whistled, tipping his hat.

"Alright," Elver muttered, taking a final drag from his cigarette. With a casual toss that flew nearly seven meters, he flicked it straight into a trash can near the entrance to "Bruce’s." "Let’s go over it one more time. Andrew..."

The young man, who was jittery and glancing over his shoulder, twisted his cap nervously in his hands. His gaze darted about like that of a rat trapped in a cage, and an unpleasant odor, sticky and sour like rotting berries in a swamp, clung to him.

"Andrew!" Elver called again.

The boy flinched, seemingly snapping back to reality. He tugged his cap down over his eyes, attempting to hide.

"Y-yes," he stammered.

"Explain the details to the newcomer," Elver said, nodding at Ardan, whose height left Elver staring up at his chest.

"Of c-c-course," Andrew replied, still stammering.

"Of c-c-course," Elver mocked. "I swear, they’ll hire anyone these days..."

"Go on, dear Andrew," Milomir encouraged, his voice dripping with a syrupy sweetness.

Elver swore under his breath as a breeze stirred the hems of their coats and cloaks, sending them flapping. Above, the thin clouds thickened, casting a dark veil over the sparse pedestrians below.

"I... I work for the Guild of Mages and-" Andrew began.

"Yes, yes, we know that already," Elver interrupted. "Get to the point!"

"Elver," came Lisa’s smooth, almost foxlike voice from inside the car. "Don’t be so hard on the boy."

Ardi was lost in thought, recalling a conversation he’d had with Arkar. So, the half-orc had been talking about Andrew...

"A... a-a month ago, I was going through some old files, and I f-found a report about a building slated for demolition. It was once of interest to the scientific community," Andrew explained, gradually finding his rhythm and losing the stutter. "The report mentioned an abandoned building on Fifth Street in Baliero."

Ardi remembered the map of the city — Baliero was about a half-hour drive away, located on one of the islands at the mouth of the Niewa River. Adjacent to the Central District, it had become a haven for free spirits and intellectuals alike.

The area was known for its theaters, including a recently constructed cinema, whatever that was (half the newspaper headlines these days were about this "cinema"), as well as a host of bars, pubs, restaurants, and cafés. There were even a few museums there. Baliero was part of the Old City, the districts in the Metropolis that had resisted high-rise developments, maintaining their historic charm. Ardi, however, believed that it was called the Old City because it had been built on the ruins of the ancient capital of Gales.

"The building was supposed to go to some baron’s heir, but the man died at the Taian border about seventy years ago."

"In the Mercenary War?" Milomir asked.

The Mercenary War had been a major conflict between the Empire and a few foreign powers. It had been far more significant than the usual skirmishes on the Fatian or Armondian border. That war had led to the Empire’s most recent territorial expansion, with Taia losing the southwestern part of the peninsula, and their northeastern border inching within a hundred kilometers of the Taian capital.

The war, which lasted from 436 to 444 E.Y., was so named because the Republic of Castilia had sent aid to Taia in the form of mercenaries comprised of Castilian natives and Ngian recruits, who’d arrived on Selkado’s ships. Combined, the losses of Taia, Castilia, and the mercenaries had reached over a million and a half lives in total, including civilian casualties. The Empire had lost about six hundred thousand, with around two hundred thousand of those being civilians.

Taia wasn’t fully conquered only due to an ultimatum from Castilia, Selkado, and the Confederation of Free Cities, whom they had bribed. They’d declared that if Ezmir, the Taian capital, fell, they would restrict the Empire’s access to the eastern continent’s shores.

Of course, the Empire would’ve still had the option of sailing through the Swallow Ocean, but Parnas, one of Ardi’s teachers, had said that that route was near non profitable due to various reasons.

"Precisely," Andrew confirmed, clearly emboldened. "The baron’s direct line ended with him, so, as per the law, the country waited half a century for any distant heirs to come forth, but none showed up. Eventually, the property passed to the city and was put up for auction. No one bought it over the next twenty years, so tomorrow morning, they’re demolishing it, and then the land will be transferred to the crown."

Ardi frowned.

"What’s bothering you, lamppost?" Elver asked.

"Are you talking to me?" Ardi replied.

"No, obviously, I’m talking to the lamppost," Elver snapped sarcastically.

"My name is Ard," the young man responded firmly.

"Oh, really?" Elver sneered, a smirk playing at his lips. "And my name is ’I don’t give a shit what you’re called, kid, because if I did, you’d drown in all of it.’"

"I always knew there was a lot of crap in you, Elver," came a woman’s mocking laughter from inside the car.

Elver was about to respond, but Milomir intervened.

"Look, gentlemen and lady, we’ll be in the same boat for a few hours, at least," the older man said, not even raising an eyebrow. "Let’s try to act like even if we can’t stand each other, we at least don’t feel the need to tear each other’s throats out."

"Well, there aren’t that many beasts among us," Elver muttered, keeping his eyes on Ardan.

"So, mister mage," Milomir, ignoring Elver, turned to Ardi. "What don’t you understand?"

"I’m new to the Metropolis," Ardi said slowly, "but isn’t land in the Old City incredibly valuable? Why didn’t anyone buy it at auction?"

"Because it’s infamous," Andrew replied, pulling a crumpled pack of cheap cigarettes from the pocket of his worn, unseasonably thin coat. People smoked a lot in the capital. "So much so that, fifty years ago, the city hired the Guild of Mages to place a shield around it, just to keep people from snooping. And that shield and its layout," he tapped his temple, "I memorized it thoroughly."

Ardi didn’t immediately understand why Andrew had memorized the seal’s layout, but then, after seeing Elver’s expression, he caught on. If Andrew had had a blueprint of the seal, he himself would no longer be needed, and he’d have probably been paid much less.

"The demolition was supposed to happen four days ago, but something delayed the Senior Magister who was scheduled to deactivate the shield. They expect him tomorrow morning," Andrew added. "Today is the last day the land and the building officially belong to the city. By tomorrow morning, the land will be the crown’s property. But as long as the building stands, it legally still belongs to the city, even though the time limit has expired. So, until tomorrow morning, the land and the building are technically unowned. Breaking into this property or dismantling the shield isn’t illegal since it currently belongs to no one... A little loophole in the law."

"And that’s where you come in, Mr. Ard," Milomir tipped his hat again, like he was greeting Ardan for the first time. "Andrew will explain the rest as we drive, and you’ll break the shield."

"But why?" Ardi narrowed his eyes at them. "Arkar told me my only task was to dismantle the shield of an abandoned building slated for demolition, one with no apparent value."

"Then just do as you were told, non-human," Elver spat on the ground.

"I’d like to see you be this brave inside ’Bruce’s,’" Lisa remarked coldly. "Or perhaps I wouldn’t, considering I might get the chance to see an idiot embedded in a wall."

Elver flashed her a rude gesture but fell silent. In that moment, his sleeve rode up, revealing a holster of throwing needles and a Tavser insignia on his wrist.

That explained everything. It was surprising, though, how Elver, with his political beliefs, could work alongside the half-orc Arkar.

"The building really isn’t valuable," Andrew said, pulling out another cigarette but quickly putting it back. "But in the records, I found information about the building’s previous owners. It turns out that it once belonged to the Vertah Order."

"The Vertah Order?" Ardan repeated.

"A local ghost story," Milomir explained. "They were a society of mages who studied the art of the Firstborn. Some say they worshipped demons or tried to summon the Fae, or maybe they discovered some artifact from Makingia. All that’s really known about them is that the Second Chancery wiped them out. And there’s also-"

"Time’s running short," Elver interrupted. "The bridges will be raised in thirty minutes."

And suddenly, Ardi understood why they had been standing by the car, chatting instead of driving to what Arkar had called "the job." Tonight marked the end of the river navigation season, and soon the bridges would be raised for the last time.

Baliero was an island, and in thirty minutes, it would be cut off from the rest of the capital for an hour and a half.

"Everyone knows their tasks," Elver said firmly, his tone leaving no room for objections. "Ideal arrival time: thirty minutes. And then ten minutes to break the shield."

"But I’m not sure if-"

"Ten. Minutes," Elver growled through gritted teeth, cutting Ardi off. "After that, we enter the building. We have forty minutes to search it. Then we go to the pier. A barge will be waiting at the fifth dock. From there, we sail to the Night Docks, then head back to ’Bruce’s.’ Anyone left behind is on their own. Understood?"

A ragged chorus of confirmations answered Elver, though it seemed only Ardan wanted to ask, "forty minutes to search for what, exactly?"

"Then let’s get moving," Elver spat one last time before circling the car to take the passenger seat next to Lisa.

Milomir climbed in, filling up the remaining space on the seat. Andrew and Ardan squeezed into the back. As soon as the doors closed, Lisa shifted gears and pressed the gas, guiding them down the street. Andrew took out a slip of paper and handed it to Ardan.

On it was a seal, not handwritten but almost certainly printed by a machine.

"Why-"

Ardan raised an eyebrow in confusion, but Andrew pressed a finger to his lips and nodded in Elver’s direction. Elver was deep in conversation with Lisa, discussing their approach to the building and their subsequent escape. Ardan understood immediately — Andrew feared Elver might catch on. The boy had likely lied about memorizing the seal and creating a rough sketch.

He must have been questioned beforehand, and he had only memorized part of the blueprint to appease them. After all, anyone could memorize, say, one of the sections of a seal with due diligence and a lot of free time, even an untrained person.

Ardan nodded, flipping open his grimoire. Turning the pages, he focused on the seal’s intricate symbols and the lockpick patterns he’d recorded from the Stranger’s book. But as he examined the seal itself...

He coughed, feeling his chest tighten.

"Are you alright, mister mage?" Milomir asked, eyeing him through the rearview mirror.

But Ardi ignored his grumbling. Pulling energy from his Star and feeling it flowing through his veins, he raised his staff and, forming a seal in front of him, slammed it into the ground.

There was no flash, no sudden spark. Ardan’s spell was, as the Stranger’s writings had taught him, invisible by design.

But something that was not visible to the naked eye was unfolding in vivid colors within the young man’s mind. He watched as several of his runes cut into the lines of the shield runes and, like experienced scouts posing as the enemy, stood side by side with them.

Meanwhile, on the other side, a group of follow-up runes had arrived. They started loudly "shouting," being insolent, and, in general, demonstrating their hostility.

Of course, since it had detected this invasion, the shield was now directing its forces there to absorb the threat. The issue was that whoever had put up such a splendid shield had relied too heavily on the constant supply of energy from the Ley cables. After all, why waste time and unnecessarily complicate this already titanic seal when you could just immediately make it quickly and mercilessly extinguish any enemy as soon as possible?

And so, all the forces of the shield were thrown at the threat, no matter how insignificant it looked. Then, as the several hostile runes were almost instantly dispersed within the shield seal’s structure, the two scout runes came into play. Their function turned out to be ridiculously simple.

At the right moment, while the shield’s forces were distracted, they opened their "arms."

In that instant, a small archway appeared in the shield, and Elver dove through it, beckoning them inside.

Milomir scrambled after him, his plush cashmere coat and wool suit soaking in the mud while Elver yanked him forward.

The moment they were through, the archway vanished, the shield once more returning to its impenetrable state.

Elver helped Milomir to his feet and turned to say something, but his words were lost to the magical silence.

Ardan gestured to his ear, indicating that he couldn’t hear them. Elver paused, nodded, then pointed to his watch.

Ardan glanced at his own — he’d taken twelve minutes instead of seven to break the shield, leaving only thirty-five minutes for their search. Elver’s finger jabbed at his watch, reminding him of the ticking clock.

The plan called for Andrew and Ardan to wait by the entrance, but he couldn’t help but wonder why that was, since they couldn’t really signal to the two men inside. And honestly, whose attention would they even attract around here?

The square around them lay silent, deserted. The surrounding buildings had had their windows tightly shut and curtains drawn, as if the residents wanted nothing to do with the old structure looming in the center. Even the winding street that encircled the square was devoid of any passing cars. Despite Baliero’s usual buzz, Fifth Street felt abandoned and forgotten.

"Want one?" Andrew held out his crumpled cigarette pack.

"I don’t smoke," Ardan replied curtly.

"Got it," Andrew nodded, slipping one cigarette between his lips. He fumbled with a match, striking it twice before the orange glow lit the end. Acrid smoke filled the air, thick and pungent, as he took a drag.

Ardi had never been able to understand the appeal. He’d tried smoking once, out of sheer curiosity, during his travels with the cowboys, only to spend the next hour coughing and spitting in disgust.

"Could you do something about this rain?" Andrew asked, shivering and pulling his coat tighter around him.

Ardan didn’t really feel the cold much, except for a slight discomfort. The rain, yes. But not the cold. Not yet. Then again, who could say how his half-breed Matabar constitution would react to the White Month, a time when the thermometer regularly drops to -25 degrees. But as Andrew’s teeth began to chatter, he picked up Milomir’s umbrella from the ground, shook off the mud, and handed it to him.

"Thanks," Andrew said, surprised. He opened the umbrella, grateful for even this small respite from the downpour. "Didn’t even notice that the old man had dropped it."

Ardan remained silent. Something about all of this made him uneasy, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Yes, of course, he could immediately say that he was indeed involved in some murky business, with equally murky company, and there was even Arkar, acting as their mysterious "overseer." Not to mention the fact that if Andrew had photos of the exact location of the artifact, then why had so much time been allotted to searching for it, not to mention...

Well. Everything.

But, surprisingly, all of these details didn’t bother Ardan as much as the unpleasant itch that was trying to tell him something.

"You know," Andrew said after a few silent minutes, "I figured you’d just... cast something."

Ardi was distracted from his thoughts and looked again at the man standing beside him. He was a bit over 180 centimeters tall, thin almost to the point of being skeletal, with fingers yellowed by addiction and glittering eyes.

"What?" Ardan asked.

"To stop it from raining, I mean."

He’d simply acted according to Atta’nha’s teachings: the Aean’Hane did their best not to influence the natural course of things. Events, however unpleasant they may be to someone, happened because they had to happen. And something that might’ve been bad for one person could’ve been good for another, and no Aean’Hane had the right to take it upon themselves to judge such things. Unless, of course, they were a dark Aean’Hane.

"You have an umbrella," he replied simply.

Andrew sniffed, shivering once more as he raised the umbrella a bit higher. "Fair point..."

He was still soaked to the bone, though, his damp clothes clinging to him. Ardan might have tried to ask the cold to release Andrew from its grip, but he was far too distracted by that nagging thought, that gnawing sense that he was missing something critical.

"So, what do you do for the Guild of Mages?" Ardan asked, hoping to keep the conversation going.

Andrew glanced away, his shoulders tensing. "Why does it matter?"

"I thought that maybe you could help me out," Ardan replied, shifting his weight and keeping his tone light. "I’ve been trying to get a license to work at the docks, but it seems my request has been buried somewhere."

"Sorry, mate," Andrew replied, his tone clipped. "I work with records in the Guild’s planning department, not the city’s. I don’t have access to citizen requests."

Ardan remembered Bazhen mentioning something about the "Department of Mage Affairs" in the Guild’s administration. "Doesn’t the Guild have its own registry?" He asked.

Andrew exhaled sharply, cigarette still clamped between his teeth. "You’re observant, aren’t you?"

Ardan was fast enough to put up his Shield and jump aside, but not fast enough to avoid getting grazed by a bullet.

A bullet that had been fired from the revolver Andrew was holding. The iron in the skinny guy’s hand, who was clearly dabbling in Angel Dust, was solid and all too real, and its muzzle was aimed straight at Ardi’s stomach.

Along his side, where the wound left by the Wanderer had finally disappeared only a couple of weeks ago, blood was flowing once again.

"I-" Ardan started, but Andrew cut him off.

"Sorry," Andrew murmured, and his voice held genuine regret. "But the Dandy pays better than the Orcish Jackets. My sister’s sick, and I need the money to help her. I don’t have a choice."

Andrew raised the gun again, aiming it at Ardan’s head. He was drained from casting his Shield and using the lockpicking spell, his Star Magic nearly depleted. His own revolver was still tucked in his coat pocket, out of reach.

"As if we didn’t know that you’d sold us out to the Dandy," someone standing behind Andrew said.

He didn’t have time to turn around before the next shot rang out.

Andrew’s body jerked, then collapsed, arms sprawling out. His eyes stared blankly ahead, frozen in surprise and fear.

Lisa stood behind him, her hand still gripping the smoking barrel of a lady’s revolver — a popular model, Ardi noted absently, and just like the one Mrs. Okladov had favored. And what Ardi really didn’t like was that, while looking at the still body, the shattered bones of the skull mixing with brains and blood, he didn’t feel particularly disgusted. He was a little nauseous, of course, but far less than he’d been when he’d seen Cassara introducing Gleb Davos to the Eternal Angels.

"The Orcish Jackets," Ardan muttered, recalling the patrons in "Bruce’s" private lounge. "Does the bar-"

"It’s a legitimate business, Ard," Lisa bent down and pulled the dead man’s weapon from his numb hands. "The building where you’re staying? It’s perfectly legal, just like ’Bruce’s.’ But yes, technically, you are renting from a criminal outfit. Arkar is their local liaison, an overseer who connects clients with those who carry out the work. And since the gang operates in the Factory District and around the Old Park, far enough from the upper crust and close enough to the laborers and common folk, the guards and Second Chancery often ignore it. And also..." Lisa shuddered and stopped. "And also, why am I confessing to you like you’re a priest?"

Ardi, who’d lost his composure, must have also lost the little bit of control over his Witch’s Gaze that he had managed to acquire over the past couple of months.

"I... am renting from... criminals," Ardi said, his words slow and measured as he absorbed the absurdity.

He’d been so careful not to jinx himself, and yet here he was, entangled in a far murkier web than he’d ever anticipated.

"’Bruce’s’ and the profit house are both a legitimate business," Lisa countered, giving him a level look. "But yes, essentially. By the way, you’re bleeding."

She stopped short, going pale as her hand drifted upwards, pointing over Ardan’s shoulder, her eyes wide with horror.

Ardan turned, his pulse quickening.

From a third-floor window, a long, black, clawed hand emerged, holding Milomir’s severed head by the hair. It dangled there for a moment, then dropped, landing with a sickening thud on the ground before rolling away into the shadows. The hand disappeared back into the building.

Ardi gulped, his mind racing. He turned back to Lisa, who was just as pale as he was.

"Does... Does this count as something going wrong?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Yeah," she replied in a hoarse whisper. "Definitely"

Both of them took an instinctive step toward the square’s exit, but suddenly, the night exploded into a fiery, orange imitation of daylight. Their car went airborne, flung upwards by an intense burst of flames, arcing several meters before landing with a metallic crash.

Lisa reacted first, dropping to the ground and pulling Ardan down with her just as the shockwave hit. The deafening roar filled the air, shattering nearby windows into a fine mist.

But the fire wasn’t the worst of it. From all directions, shadowy figures began converging on them, weapons glinting under the streetlights: pistols, revolvers, even a few army-grade rifles.

"The Dandy’s men," Lisa spat, raising her revolver and firing into the night. "We have to get inside the house."

"What? In there?" Ardan shot back, his eyes wide with disbelief. "With that thing?"

"You want to deal with these things instead?" She snapped, pulling the trigger again as more figures appeared from the darkness. "There should be an old sewer hatch beneath the building. That’s our backup plan. Arkar always has a backup plan..."

Steeling himself, Ardan pulled out Gleb Davos’ accumulator, the one he’d taken "just in case." He’d need every bit of its energy to have enough Star Magic to shield them both.

"I just need a minute," he said, drawing energy from the crystal. Considering that the accumulator was an order of magnitude more powerful than the energy stored in his own Star, the process was working at a great loss.

"You have five seconds!" Lisa barked, firing round after round into the advancing shadows.

Ardi clenched his jaw. As the night stretched on, it was becoming clearer by the second that this was only the beginning.