Blue Words - Part I Page 21

added Kahn.

  Dorian nodded, “But last night, I think I may have found something. One of our friends stumbled upon the fact that Julian Drake is a silent partner in a company called Vision Haematological Engineering.”

  “I’ve heard of them,” said George.

  “He has shares in Apple too, doesn’t mean that iPods are powered by bloody Warlock blood,” snapped Malaki.

  “Let me finish. The lengths he had gone to to hide it were excessive to say the least, but it gets better. They seem to specialise in biological R&D. They are worldwide, but the part which really sparked my interest was their multi-million dollar facility here in Australia. It was built right around the time Drake started moving his mining operations from Africa. Could be coincidence I know, but guess what this new facility specialises in.” The room hung silent, though most had already guessed the answer. “Blood research.”

  Dorian fidgeted, and grimaced in pain. Gudrik studied the expressions around the room. He had taken little meaning from what had been said, though it seemed to make perfect sense to everyone else.

  “It receives a lot of genuine research grants and has made some real progress in screening techniques and treatment of blood cancers, nothing that seems out of the ordinary.” He paused, rubbing his healing wound; it was a smear of blue and red. “That’s as far as I got before......well, this. The Sword got the jump on me before I could shift away; he’s quick. Coincidence or not, I think it warrants further investigation.”

  “The fact that he even had a paladin there tells us a lot,” added Brood.

  “Where do I find this place?” asked Gudrik.

  “In the city, I can take you there,” replied Dorian trying unsuccessfully to stand.

  “Grrr, you need to rest, I’ll fucking take him,” growled Malaki.

  “No you stay with Dorian, I’ll take Gudrik,” ordered Kahn. Malaki looked a little more pissed off than usual at not being able to go, but he sucked it up and did as he was told.

  As the day faded into afternoon Gudrik and Kahn climbed into the van and headed south toward the city. “Do you have anything even resembling a plan?” asked Kahn.

  “No, I will judge this fortress when we arrive. Any idea of the numbers in garrison there?” he grumbled. Kahn ruffled his eyebrows and turned to the Warlock.

  “Gudrik, you realise that our target is a place of science, right?”

  “Oh.” Gudrik became flustered and fought to hide reddening cheeks. “Many of your boy’s words were unfamiliar to me. I didn’t wish to appear simple in front of everyone, gratitude.”

  “Anytime Gudrik. To be honest, I am impressed with how well you handle the modern tongue. It is a far cry from the languages of our era.”

  “During my captivity, I had very little choice but to listen.”

  Random chit chat eased the boredom of the trip as Kahn tried filling Gudrik in on some of the landmark events he had missed during his captivity. With so much history to deal with Kahn chose only the most iconic parts and often found himself leaping backwards and forwards, jumbling Gudrik’s timeline. The Warlock listened intently to just how far the world had evolved in his absence; it seemed the snippets he had picked up from George had been only the tip of the iceberg. Kahn truly had seen the world grow and blossom before beginning to fester and rot. Gudrik could scarcely believe the things some people got away with unchecked in the modern age. Before long the sun had given way to night and the bright lights of the city shone on the horizon.

  Brisbane’s streets were once again populated with traffic and party goers. Bright neon lit the buildings around them and thudding bass boomed from many. It was altogether a very different sight to when they had fled. Gudrik looked out the window at the large glowing moon hanging above. “A man has walked on that,” he breathed. “That, Kahn is far more impressive than anything I have and probably ever will do in my life.” Kahn smiled as he pulled the car over a discreet distance from an architectural marvel on the southern outskirts of the city.

  The structure looked like something from a science fiction movie. Steel clad in glass with not a straight panel amongst its flowing lines. It sat sparkling decadently in a melange of moonlight from above and ambient streetlight from below.

  “There it is,” said Kahn, gesturing.

  “Return home, I can get back alone,” grunted Gudrik.

  “You don’t want help?” replied Kahn with concern. Gudrik ignored his question and Kahn sighed, “If you plan to fly, stay low. There is technology now which tracks movements in the sky.”

  “Yes I have had some experience with that,” he thought, remembering his tussle with the helicopter. “Of course,” was all that came out of his mouth. Gudrik climbed out of the car, and to Kahn’s surprise wandered into an alley across the road rather than towards the target. Despite his curiosity in the Warlock’s plan, Kahn did as he was instructed and left before the vehicle’s presence could be noticed.

  The alley was much darker than the street, shadowed by the large buildings on each side. He drew Scurt’s wand and exposed a few droplets of blood. Gudrik closed his eyes and pictured himself on top of the building beside him. “Sclivitan!” he breathed. A prickly burn burst across every inch of his body. It lasted only a split second and as it subsided a stiff breeze was blowing into his face. It felt cold after the burst of heat, his skin tingled. Gudrik opened his eyes to find himself on top of the building. “Well done Dorian.”

  It was one of the things Gudrik loved most about what he was. Creativity evolved the craft. He had known that spirit tongue term since he was eleven, he had even used it to move heavy building materials in the past, but never had he have considered bending it in the way Dorian did.

  From his rooftop vantage point the Warlock carefully surveyed the target. Once upon a time he would have simply burst in, axe in hand and hacked his way to the information he desired. But the technology of this new age.....well, let’s just say it was a variable he had not yet come to terms with.

  The first thing which struck Gudrik was the obvious lack of security. The glass walls betrayed much of the internal going ons of the building. He observed the premises for over an hour from his lofty perch and other than two guards near the huge front doors, he saw no patrols. The two in view seemed to do nothing more than sit at a large desk and occasionally go for coffee. “Such incompetent warriors? There must be some form of science watching over this place.”

  But standing there forever was not an option, the night was halfway through as it was. With a slash and a whisper, Gudrik appeared in a swirl of mist high atop the institute’s curved roof. Again he bled, again he whispered, “Xitzsus.”

  With a shimmer and a groan, Gudrik’s very being faded to but a shade of its former vibrancy, leaving him translucent and smokey. He began to drift gracefully down, passing through the solid glass roof as though it were water.

  This shade took impeccable concentration to maintain and was accompanied by a pain which few could even imagine. If he pushed it too far his separating molecules completely lost their connection with gravity and he was left in place as the earth rotated away from him at blurring pace. If he didn’t push hard enough he was unable to pass through solid objects. It was a delicate balancing act, but one which he had mastered long ago and the knack it seemed had not been lost. But the pain, it was something he would never become accustomed to.

  On the inside of the building, Gudrik found himself in a laboratory. This kind of place was actually familiar to him, though it was certainly not a place he understood. He had been though rooms like this during his captivity. He drifted weightlessly through the room, passing effortlessly through any objects which found themselves in his way. Gudrik really had no idea what he was looking for and he certainly had no concept where to begin. He knew instantly that he should have taken up the offer of the Inscribed to join him. “Ormstunga! Two thousand years old and still making the mistakes of youth.”

  He paused in thought, pain flooded in. He fought and
focussed to push the burning needles to the back of his mind. It was while fighting the pain that Gudrik noticed it.....a tiny, nagging tingle or urge in the back of his mind, something faint which was easily ignored. It was familiar, a ghost of something from his past, something which still put fear into him, though he couldn’t say why. Now that the tingle had been drawn to his attention, there was no ignoring it. As he moved around the room it changed, as if swelling and shrinking within him. Gudrik closed his eyes and focused as he drifted, following the swelling.

  It drew him to a point in the centre of a small office. From there any direction he moved simply weakened the feeling, yet nothing in the room led him any closer to understanding the source. Gudrik’s frustration grew; again he had no idea what to do, again he regretted not having the Inscribed. He was at breaking point, ready to end the constant pain and find what he came for with the axe, when had a flash, an idea. The Warlock looked to the floor. He sunk through the levels and eventually the urge swelled and soon screamed at him so strongly that there was no ignoring it. Finally deep inside the facility, he laid eyes on the source.

  Behind the glass of a small fridge door sat a test tube rack. On the rack, a series of small sealed crystal vials containing his blood. Gudrik swiped at the fridge, but his hand simply swished