Authors: Randall P. Fitzgerald
Tags: #urban fantasy, #fantasy, #tattoo, #fantasy contemporary
Shit. People. Or… or whatever you call
them.
“
Sorry, sorry.”
The apologies were wasted. It was screaming
time. Lowell scrambled for his book and stood up to continue his
run. The girl had not been alone on the street. A smattering of
residents were out of their houses and looking on in terror as he
passed by. Some shouted things at him, presumably mean things, but
he wouldn’t know the difference. He decided to pretend they were
cheering him on. This whole thing worked better if he was the hero,
right? And no one was throwing fruit, which would be a dead
giveaway.
The population of the streets thinned as he
ran, down to only a fair few. Most of those ran inside when they
saw him approach. The roads and walks crossed and went off at all
angles with no discernible pattern. The spire was the only landmark
worth noting. There were taller buildings in the distance but they
dipped behind the houses depending on how he turned and how opulent
the houses in his immediate area were.
The spire was close now and its true size was
apparent in a way he couldn’t have understood at a distance. It was
an immense thing and must have been huge at the base. He stopped to
look at it and to listen. If the people had a way to alert the
guards he could expect to see them soon.
It wasn’t guards that he heard, however. The
dull thud of heavy impact was what drew his ears. Almost directly
to his side. Not in the direction of the spire, but he’d have to
check it out.
The run was shorter than he’d expected, a fact
for which he was entirely thankful. A square littered with debris
faced him at the end of his trip. Debris and a pair of bloodied
children in strange cloaks. His eyes shot to Marka without
hesitation. She looked no worse for the wear. The boy was not so
lucky. He was bloodied almost beyond recognition. The others were
on a rooftop overlooking the small plaza.
Marka stood at the ready, but did not move an
inch from her spot. The boy was beaten and that was the best offer
of surrender he was likely to get. He did not accept. In a sluggish
lurch, the boy’s dimly glowing arm came up and his body rolled
forward toward Marka. It was slow enough that even Lowell would
have had no trouble in dodging. Marka stepped aside, her leg
flaring as it came up. It came down with the force of a storm and
caught the boy in the lower back. There was a sickening crack from
the blow and he fell, sliding on his chest toward the far side of
the court.
For her part, Marka stood where she had been.
She did not pursue the boy and her stance stayed as defensive as
ever. Lowell watched her. There was incredible grace and precision
in her movements but her face was filled with a stony sadness.
There were three others and she could not relax until the work was
done.
Lowell turned his view upward to see what
moves they might make but they stayed still. Were they only
watching? There was no chance they were friendly, not in Lowell’s
mind anyway. As the possibilities worked their way past, an answer
presented itself. A tiny, prepubescent grunt. The boy was still
alive.
The dim glow of his arm started to grow
brighter and stronger as he willed himself to his feet. The hum
grew deeper and louder and more terrible with every passing second.
His arm became a sheath of purple light and the skin across his arm
and face began to glow a bright red, like there was a flashlight
growing in intensity under his skin.
There was a sudden snap, like the sound of a
giant metal cable rending itself in half and the purple light
around his arm seemed to splinter the air. He moved forward a step,
but the splinter of white-hot purple stayed where it had split off
from him. Marka saw it and her eyes widened. Lowell knew fear when
he saw it, but she wasn’t looking at the boy. She was looking past
him. The tear started to widen, following along after its maker,
when a light came from the other side of the square.
Marka.
Her leg was bright with energy. She moved at a
speed that ought to have ripped the skin from her body. Her foot
found the boy’s shoulder, just past the glow of his arm. In the
blink of an eye, the glow was gone. The boy’s arm had vaporized and
all that remained was a raw divot in his shoulder that began to
ooze blood.
Marka retreated from him and Lowell saw the
slightest flash from under her cloak. The ring. She was wearing it.
Brista collapsed, leaving a pool of deep red under his body. He was
done.
Another snap rang out and the tear widened. A
dark void began to form in the growing fissure and a hot, terrible
air seemed to pour out in tiny waves. Marka fell to one
knee.
More twanging snaps. This time from above,
though. Lowell looked at the rooftop where the three Brant had been
perched. Only two remained now, a glowing throat and a glowing leg.
The air behind popped and groaned as if it was ready to devour them
all.
Marka looked up at them. There was nowhere she
could run now. With the world tearing apart at the seams, she
readied herself.
Chapter 12
The stone roof cracked
as they took
off, sending splinters of rock flying into the air. The girl with
the leg tattoo landed just to Marka’s side, leaving a small crater
under the force of her landing. She took a quick swipe with her
leg, which Marka ducked before taking a hop back to put some
distance between them.
The boy with the neck tattoos was much slower
and he made for Marka’s flank, trying to find a way around her. He
planted himself firmly at her side and opened his mouth. His neck
lit and the sound that came out was tremendous and horrible. A high
warble like a million songbirds had been set on fire split the air
and brought Lowell to his knees. Even Marka was stumbled by the
sheer force of it, but she quickly adjusted her body.
The other girl did not waste the opportunity
the boy had bought her. She kicked off and closed on Marka almost
instantly. There was no time to move so Marka brought her own leg
up to receive the blow. The tattoos clashed and sputtered, sending
bolts of black-purple light spiraling into the air around them. The
flare made the rip that Brista had left groan and widen. The tears
that had been left in the air around the roof of the house pulled
toward each other and combined, the deep black void forming in the
space that had been between them. The world seemed to lens around
them now as if it were being sucked across to some other
place.
Even with the world pulling itself into
pieces, the children paid it no mind. Marka pushed the girl away
and again retreated. The square seemed utterly tiny now with the
two of them bearing down on her. There was little room to move and
she was boxed in. Marka pulled herself closer to a nearby wall in
spite of the pair approaching her with less than friendly intent.
They kept pace but remained at a distance, keeping Marka in a
position that would force an awkward move.
The wall was there now and Marka placed her
tattooed leg against it. Magic flared and she hurtled across toward
the other girl. A leg rose to receive the attack almost as though
she had expected Marka’s charge. The leg rose and flared but there
was no great clash. Instead Marka’s free foot cupped around the
girl’s knee and she used the leverage to twist her body. In a
blink, the hot glow of her leg was against the girl’s face. Marka
pushed off, sending the girl spiraling to the ground and launching
herself toward the boy. There was a sharp cut in the horrible sound
and the sound of a deep, grinding crunch. The boy left his feet and
drilled toward the wall behind, impacting against it and sending a
deep, immediate split up the thick stone. He slumped and coughed,
blood spattering onto his pale legs.
Marka had not managed to be entirely clean in
her approach and as the boy had pushed away from her she had little
choice but to hit the ground in a graceless flop. She wearily
climbed back to her feet and turned herself to face the girl that
she’d used as a launch pad.
Her enemy had landed awkwardly, so Marka let
out as quickly as she could manage. She stopped just short to pivot
and send her leg around with all the force she could manage. The
swing was strong, but its target was quick to move. The girl let
her legs fall out from under her and the kick swung over her. As
her back hit the ground, her leg went bright and she swung upward.
Marka pulled back deftly, but the chain that held her ring came
untucked from her armor. A single toe caught the chain, but it was
enough and the thin necklace was pulled free of its hiding
place.
The girl stopped a second to puzzle at the
jewelry and her curiosity would cost her dearly. Marka’s eyes
widened and her face twisted with a pure and immediate rage. Her
leg was a blinding wash of magic light. The blows came with a speed
and power that was inhumane. The girl crumpled as a flurry of
strikes devastated every part of her. Sharp cracks as the impacts
found her knees, then her ribs, then her neck. She dropped to the
ground in a heap of purple and red, nothing left of the child that
had been standing there the moment before.
Marka quickly fell to her knees and clutched
up the ring as her leg dimmed back to the pale color of skin. She
stared at the ring, looking it over and over so intently that she
didn’t notice the world around.
Her fury had torn the sky beyond breaking. The
black voids had opened wide and the hot, wet breath of whatever
world was on the other side was forcing itself into the square. The
scream of strange winds began to waver as though the space between
worlds was clogging. A thick clump of mucus fell through the hole
nearest Marka. Then another. The hole began to wheeze and crack and
a form filled the space. Lowell knew the look of the skin. The
monsters.
It oozed through the hole in the sky and fell
hard on the mucus, scattering it around. It made no noise when it
saw Marka, only scrambled up and ran for her as quickly as it could
manage.
“
MARKA!”
She looked up at Lowell as if she’d been
asleep for years. Her brow knit in confusion and then she heard the
dull thumps of the beast behind her. She turned, but it was too
late. The creature barreled into her and she was caught on its
massive head. She struggled to move aside, but her cloak was
trapped. The impact shattered the wall she’d used to launch her
attack on the boy and she was lost in the rubble.
The monster was shaken by the impact. They
were stupid creatures, it had to be said. It stood and let go the
terrible bellow Lowell had heard the night he’d met Marka. The
tears above the roof line shattered and peeled open even more,
sending cracks along the sky off into the distance in every
direction. When it had let go its cry, the beast sniffed at the
air. It saw the girl Marka had left there in the street and made
its way toward her.
Lowell took his chance and ran to the rubble.
Marka was half buried inside the room of a lavishly decorated
house. Though there were cushions and soft fabrics scattered all
over, there was nothing comfortable about the situation. He began
hefting stones away as Marka pushed ineffectually at the stones on
her legs. She was pushing with only one arm, the other laid limp
beside her. The sickening sound of the creature intruded on the
effort to free her. There was little time. What seemed like an hour
passed, but finally the light of her leg shone through. She was
free enough to pull herself out. It was slow and looked painful but
she managed it somehow. Lowell helped her to her feet. She was slow
to move.
He frowned. “You’re not okay, but I get it. We
need to do whatever you needed to do. I’m going to help,
okay?”
She didn’t say anything or look up at him. He
scooped her up, placed the book onto her stomach, and carried her
out. The sight of the creature was unpleasant, bloody mucus falling
from its face down onto the slurry of meat and bone that had been a
girl a few minutes before. Lowell held back a gag and ran past,
hoping the creature was sufficiently distracted. It looked up from
its meal and let out a wet barking sound, but didn’t
follow.
Lowell commenced to thanking all the deities
he could remember, but figured they probably hadn’t accounted for
this sort of eventuality. His legs were done in, his ankle was a
giant ball of angry nerves, and Marka was growing heavier by the
second. Those weren’t so much the worst of his troubles, though.
The spider web of narrow rips in the air were pulsing and
threatening to grow larger every second.
A great, screaming buzz filled the air and the
fractures began to shimmer and vibrate. In the distance, where the
fight had been, there was a massive groan. Lowell felt the earth
shake as a great gust of hot wind overtook him. Before he had a
chance to wonder what it might’ve been, a siren sounded. Not the
siren from before, but a low, ominous tone, almost a buzz. It
played in a steady rhythm and he felt Marka tense up in his arms.
He started running again when he began to hear doors swinging open
and the murmur of thousands of voices. At the sides of the street
he was running down, doors came open and the hidden masses flooded
out. Hundreds poured into the street, not even stopping to take a
glance at either Lowell or Marka as they ran with their families in
tow toward the spire.
There was no way to move carrying Marka as he
was. Lowell pushed to the side of the street and laid Marka down
against the wall. He sat down beside her and leaned forward to rest
on his knees.