152 (II)

Undercover

Shiv complied. He spread his hands open, and he called back. “I’m Inquisitor Morgan Hyde!” he shouted, trying to inject as much anguish and desperation into his voice as possible. “We… we were attacked! We were with Master-Inquisitor Sijik’s Expeditionary Force to Gate Theborn. We were attacked and ambushed by Necrotechs! It was a slaughter! It was an absolute slaughter!” He drew in a long, shuddering breath. “Vicar Sullain! He has the Animancy Core! He used the Animancy Core on us! We barely managed to escape from one of their internments after! City Lord Havel needs to know! He needs to know! Please, before it’s too late! Before he takes Blackedge from us, he needs to know!”

A moment of tense silence followed. A rustling breeze washed through the world, and a whistle rose through the air. Immediately, Shiv caught sight of movement passing in his periphery. Even invisible, Shiv could see the distortions clearly. His new ocular enchantments were excellent at separating moving objects from all that remained still.

In less than a second, ten invisible Pathbearers landed behind Shiv and the other Inquisitors without making any noise at all. But they still reeked with the scent of humanity. He watched as the seven other mind-broken Inquisitors were restrained from behind. Their arms were bound together by dense manacles of adamantine, and then they had hoods pulled over their heads.

A moment later, Shiv felt someone grabbing his arms as well. He almost resisted, but then went slack and let them cuff him. As a dark rag was pulled over his face, Shiv gagged at the acrid smell. At the same time, all sound was severed from him. He blinked. This wasn’t just some dirty rag. It was some kind of sensory deprivation hood meant specifically for prisoners.

“Don’t be too rough with them,” Shiv called out, though he suspected it was in vain. “They’ve experienced vile torture at the hands of the Necrotechs. They need support. They need to see a Biomancer. But don’t let the Psychomancers reach into them. The Necrotechs… They touched our minds. They planted something there. Something… I think it’s a trap. I think…” And immediately, he felt something prod into his back, urging him to start moving.

Shiv let the inquisitorial scouts drag him along. He didn’t know how long he walked. It felt like an hour. But on the way, he felt several clenches of spatial distortion. At some point, he’d been teleported. And not just once. Thanks to his armor’s Mycelial Interface, he still had some available senses. He could feel the temperature outside, feel the wind rushing over him, the moisture dancing against his outer carapace. The ground was still soil as well. A bit of grass. Then, sand. Were they walking him closer to the water? He could hear waves crashing…

Awareness 40 > 41

They teleported again. A pressure squeezed down around Shiv. The wind faded entirely, and the world grew dry. Heat washed over him. Abruptly, he found himself stomping down on concrete flooring rather than dirt or soil.

Two inquisitors pulled him by his arms and dragged him down. As Shiv sat, he felt his rear land on a seat. It promptly broke beneath him. He crashed down onto the floor with a grunt of surprise. Right. Perfect Semblance hides my identity and skills. But it doesn’t really do anything for my weight.

And Shiv was considerably heavier than Inquisitor Morgan Hyde, especially with his layered armor on. He was pulled back to his feet and, a moment thereafter, made to sit down again. This time, he found a sturdier chair beneath him. I am not physically built for spy shit at all, Shiv thought with a wince.

His hood was wrenched off his face, and he found a familiar figure sitting across from him.

The man was tall and gaunt, and static imperceptibly danced along the edge of his meticulously trimmed black beard. His armor was characterized by slats with slight separations between them, copper wires coiling along the crenulations. Electricity surged through his armor, and slight forks of lightning leapt out from his body in a crackling aura.

Shiv had wondered what it would take for him to make contact with the City Lord. But here he was in the flesh. Havel Stormhalt. Looking just like he did in the Jealousy’s memory back at Elaboration.

“Inquisitor Morgan Hyde,” Stormhalt said. There was a faint rumble of thunder in the back of his throat, and his storm-gray eyes flashed with hints of distant lightning as he stared expressionlessly at Shiv. “The scouts have reported what you told them. And I find your claims to be disturbing.” The City Lord leaned back and sneered down at the table between them. He made a gesture thereafter, and one of the nearby inquisitors placed a cup of water on the table. Shiv stared at the cup of water, and he reached out. He wasn’t going to be able to drink it with his helmet on, but he could still pretend. He picked the glass up with shaking hands and messily poured it against his face. It splashed down as Shiv made lapping noises, making it seem as if he was dehydrated and nervous.

Stormhalt shot him a look of pity and sighed. “The scouts also said you claimed to have escaped from a Necrotech internment camp.”

“Yes,” Shiv rasped. He looked around the room. It was like a metallic box. No decorations. Just him. Stormhalt. Two automaton Pathbearers. A door. Shiv couldn’t tell much else about this place besides that, except that there was also some kind of sterile taste in the air. “Y-yes. They ambushed the expeditionary force. We were just past Margarita Point when they hit us in the air. They overwhelmed us immediately. They—”

Stormhalt held out a large hand and interrupted him. “You claim that Necrotechs did this. Was it only the Necrotechs?”

Shiv blinked and offered a frown. “I… I think so. The attack was sudden, overwhelming. We tried to hold against them, but we couldn’t. They were just suddenly among us, ripping through us from the inside, even as our magi tried to set up defenses. When our inner shields collapsed, the rest of our forces followed. And then… and then…” Shiv shook. He tried not to overdo it, but he wanted to sell the look of a traumatized man. Someone who had faced and tasted too much death, and came out broken. Someone who was most assertively not Shiv. “And then I saw him, Vicar Sullain. He had the Animancy Core. He unleashed it upon us, and that baleful blue… it killed so many. We were betrayed by Oldsmith. The ambush was a set-up. So many died. So many…”

Stormhalt snarled slightly. His nostrils flared, and his eyes flashed with electrical power. “So the Abyssal Mongrel makes his move.” The City Lord pressed his lips together as he mused, considering everything Shiv had said thus far. “And you are certain there were no orcs among the Vicar’s forces.”

That brought Shiv’s mind to a complete halt. He remembered seeing a bolt of lightning leaving the Expeditionary Force. Adam managed to intercept it with his arrow. But maybe another had made it through. Maybe multiple bolts had escaped their notice, carrying multiple messages.

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If that was the case, then perhaps they were trying to catch Shiv in a lie. Or they already knew he was lying, and this was a counterintelligence operation more than anything else. This text is hosted at novel⦿fire.net

Shiv found himself fighting the urge to cast himself back across time and return to Gate Piety. His last foray into spycraft had gone poorly, and this time, it wasn’t just him here. But just then, he noticed a dense pressure grinding against him. It was faint, heavy, and its weight carried multitudes. He felt it pushing against every single magical field he had, from Chronomancy to Biomancy to even his Hydromancy.

Shiv stared at the air, and he focused. He focused as he saw a thin glitter of mana there. It was kaleidoscopic mana, prismatic mana, mana of all colors and varieties, and it was suffusing the very atmosphere around him. He had a feeling that if he tried to jump right now, something terrible might happen. Might be some kind of really subtle mana warding. Or something else entirely. Don’t like how it’s bunched around my fields. Still have no idea where they teleported me.

“Maybe,” Shiv finally answered. He gave Stormhalt a shaken expression. “There was a great deal happening, and I—”

Stormhalt held up a hand. “That’s enough, Inquisitor. At ease.” Shiv nodded slowly. “I understand that you’ve experienced quite the ordeal. But even so, you managed to save seven of your fellow inquisitors. It is a commendable action; an honorable one. I salute you, Master Hyde. For caring about your fellows, even in these direst of circumstances.”

“It was simply my duty, City Lord.”

Stormhalt nodded along. “We’ve also gone through the minds of your fellow inquisitors.”

Shiv pretended to be shocked. He drew in a sharp intake of breath. “The Necrotechs—They planted things in our minds. They reached into…”

“We are aware,” Stormhalt interrupted him. “Be calm, Master Inquisitor. Our Heroic Psychomancers have delved into them. Their minds have indeed been altered to some extent. That is what they are certain about. Yours, however, we have not touched yet. For you seem more stable compared to the others.”

And Shiv was glad Adam had him review what to say over and over again. “That’s because the Necrotechs thought I was dead. They… they threw me in a pit along with so many corpses. They were preparing to resurrect me, to twist me into one of their undead abominations. I managed to get free because of that, escape and save the others.”

Acting 12 > 14

“Remarkable,” Stormhalt said. “But even so, we will need to review your mind to discover if you’ve been affected in any way.” The way the City Lord said that implied a great many things.

Shiv simply nodded along. “Of course, City Lord Stormhalt. We cannot risk the Inquisition and the Ascendants’ glory. Not even for my own safety and comfort.”

“Good man,” Stormhalt said. “Good man.” He patted Shiv on the arm twice, and he rose from his chair. A tremor of electricity danced down Shiv’s arm. “Do you know what happened to Master-Inquisitor Sijik, for that matter? I know that you must be overwhelmed, but any information pertaining to his status will be helpful.”

“I think he was taken. I think Sullain took Sijik… The Vicar said he wanted there to be an audience for when he conquers Blackedge. For when he destroys the town and the Perch.”

Bolts of lightning blasted out from Stormhalt, grasping at the air around him but striking none of the people in the room. The man’s expression was impassive, but Shiv could feel the anger radiating off of his body.

“I understand,” Stormhalt said simply. “You will be teleported out of holdings and placed under watch. We will have a Biomancer and Psychomancer come look over you shortly. In the meantime, we have food prepared, along with a cot if you desire rest. But understand that we will be making full speed toward Blackedge. And we are moving spatially silent, so we cannot teleport you back to Fortress-City Diego for recovery.” He reached down and grabbed Shiv by the shoulder before squeezing slightly. “Are you still in this fight with us, Inquisitor? For that is where we are heading, into a fight. We cannot let the Vicar destroy what is ours, unmake what is ours.”

“I’m still with you, City Lord,” Shiv forced out in a stammer. He rose, meeting the City-Lord’s gaze as he tried to express his devotion.

“Good. Very good.” Stormhalt nodded, and nodded, and nodded a bit too long. Shiv felt something terribly unpleasant turn inside his stomach. And when the City Lord finally stopped nodding, he gave Shiv a final look, then turned to one of the automaton Pathbearers standing guard.

“Move us to temporary quarters,” Stormhalt ordered.

Before Shiv could ask what that was, one of the machine Pathbearers channeled a burst of Dimensionality over the Deathless. Dark static swallowed Shiv, and a moment thereafter, he was pulled across a small gulf of space. Three seconds later, Shiv appeared in a new, wider chamber.

A cot on the ground awaited him, while a table was placed against the wall. Atop it, a steaming bowl of porridge called out to his senses, while a painted mural featuring thirteen enshrouded figures decorated the entirety of the left wall. There were no windows in his chamber. Only a small air vent lined the corner of his ceiling. But so far, his cover remained intact. Even with the awkwardness he’d experienced earlier, he hadn’t been cut down. It seemed like Stormhalt just had him moved from an interrogation room to a detention chamber.

Shiv let out a quiet breath and struggled not to celebrate. Maybe I’m actually getting better at this spy stuff too. He looked around and waited another moment for the System to disappoint him. When it didn’t, he walked over toward his cot to examine the amenities offered to him. But as he turned his head, something shimmered in the corner of his vision. Shiv paused, and he turned to stare at the mural of the Ascendants. He narrowed his eyes at the colors. He triggered his Compound Ocular Network. He zoomed in on one of the Ascendants, on one that resembled a winged figure that had two sets of arms and bore a bow.

Starhawk, Shiv thought. But there was something about the painting—about its shape—that drew his attention. As he took a few steps forward, he stared at the Starhawk intently, but he couldn’t find anything wrong with it. He shifted again, performing the same action he did earlier when he was preparing to head to the cot. And just then, he saw something in the corner of his vision once more. Something was moving there, something minuscule. He immediately whipped his head back in place, and he tried to remember where the visual disturbance was. After a moment of looking, of zooming in further, he finally found it.

There was a small crack lining the painted body of the Starhawk. A crack that continued through the wall. And within that small crack, he saw a woman, a very short, very petite woman, biting into an apple and looking right back at him. Her short, strawberry blonde hair was somewhat messy, and her eyes were a piercing green. Most striking was her armor; it was made of tessellating plates, the same kind of vibrating material that made up Shiv’s Magebreaker gauntlet. Hovering just behind her back was a sword. It was larger than the woman several times over, and patches of rust marred its form.

She took a final bite of her apple and tossed it aside. As soon as she threw the apple core out from the crack in the statue, it expanded, materializing into normal size and bouncing off of Shiv’s foot. “Wow!” she exclaimed. Her voice rang clear and loud, and as she clapped her hands together, the air thundered. The room itself shook slightly, dust raining from the ceiling. Even though she was barely the size of a single hair, Shiv felt that she had enough strength to rip this room asunder. This room, and maybe even him.

Awareness 40 > 42

The woman ran a hand through her hair and sighed as she looked down. “Can’t believe you noticed me with that Adept-Tier Awareness of yours, Master-Inquisitor.” Then she giggled. “This is embarrassing. Puts me in a bit of a bind. Havel wanted me to watch you quietly in case you did anything weird.”

She hopped out from the crack, and suddenly she grew far larger as well. Or at least to human size. Her natural height of just barely over one and a half meters reached up to around Shiv’s waist. But her blade? That was even taller than he was. And Shiv was glad he didn’t take his mask off, because that would have made things very, very ugly.

“Titansbane, I presume,” Shiv said, keeping his voice even.

The Legendary Pathbearer burped into her hand and offered it to Shiv for a shake. “Don’t call me that. I hate that fucking title. Call me Jessica. And you’re pretty sharp for a guy who supposedly got the life tortured out of him.”

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