Blue Words - Part I Read online

below. Ami on the other hand was a picture of serenity. She slowly straightened her body and gave the greys a look which made them question whether their numbers were enough for this fight. There was no panic or fear beneath her expression.

  The greys shouted a frantic montage of commands and threats at them from all directions. Malaki and Kahn sprung from their hiding spot, screaming to their stricken comrades’ aid. Ghostly cries bellowed from their invisible bodies and filled the hangar with echoes. The greys swept their guns from side to side madly following the sounds. Malaki raged and greys began to fly as he parted the crowd. But just as the commotion reached Dorian and Ami, the rescuers too emerged from their shrouded state and into plain sight. Malaki’s rage fizzled. All the Inscribed shouted blue words, their inscriptions simply failed to respond.

  Gudrik looked curiously at his hands. He was still shrouded. “Stay where you are George, we may need you,” Gudrik whispered, creeping from the refuge. He was much more wary than the others had been. The Inscribed still stood in a battle ready standoff, surrounded by heavily armed greys and ignoring all commands barked at them. Gudrik weaved his way carefully through the grey uniforms, working toward his friends. There just before the point of their final stand Gudrik sighted the problem. An old Varth-lokkr trick. Something so simple it was nothing short of ironic that it could contain such inhuman power. “Clever boy.”

  Before the Warlock’s feet lay a thick ring of salt which surrounded the centre section of the shed space, essentially creating a dead zone. It may have wreaked havoc with his plan, but it did tell Gudrik something very important. They were on the right track. There was something there which Kyran wanted to protect. Something he needed to defend.

  One of the greys eventually took command and began to bark orders at the Inscribed. “Are there any more of you?” The familiars did not respond. “Get on the ground or we will fire on you.”

  The four Inscribed refused to submit. Instead, Dorian and Malaki looked at each other and in an act of defiance they removed their shirts, proudly displaying their inscriptions. They were dead anyway if they surrendered, Kyran would never let them live. Gudrik bit his hand. Three more times the grey repeated his order. Gudrik slid his foot forward breaking the salt line. The order came, “Fire!”

  “Qriktsus!” Gudrik’s growl echoed loudly through the warehouse as he flicked blood onto the ground. Thick walls of stone and earth burst from the ground, shattering the thick concrete floor like a thundering quake and knocking the greys off their feet. The swarm of bullets thudded harmlessly into jagged stone battlements which now surrounded the Inscribed.

  Gudrik dropped his shroud. The confused greys anxiously leapt up and turned their weapons on him. Before the bite wound could heal Gudrik rumbled for his axe. The tongues of flame licked at his flesh as it tore from his hand. In a single, swift motion fluent enough to be called dance the axe was buried in the closest grey. Gun fire erupted. The Warlock wrenched it free and sent it spinning through the air at another. Blue words spurred blood from fresh wounds into more axes which flashed in his hands, gliding and slashing through one man then the next, he grinned through the pain as red and blue splashed together at his feet.

  The hysteria and gunfire caught the soldiers’ attention and they flooded in, adding their weapons to the ruckus. The sight of their green fatigues cut through Gudrik’s giddy battle fog, and George’s request suddenly reverberated in his mind. He exhaled heavily and rolled his eyes. “The things I do for that woman.”

  “Santarktsus,” he whispered, igniting his numerous bullet wounds. Soldiers and greys alike, collapsed heavily to the ground. Weapons rattled onto the fractured concrete slab as they all fell unconscious. If the warriors he once fought alongside could see Gudrik now, he would never have lived it down. It was not what he would have called an honourable victory.

  The stone wall dropped. Dorian appeared to his left in a whirl of mist, Malaki charged out and halted, looking about wild eyed. All they found was peace and quiet. They seemed disappointed at the lack of battle. A shape emerged from a long stretch of shadow which lay in the Warlock’s right periphery. He sunk his teeth into his hand. The beautiful blonde haired head of Ami suddenly showed through the dark. She paused briefly in a low crouch as the dark seemed to cling to her body. She eyed the sleeping bodies. Gudrik arched an eyebrow at her with intrigue.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty handy,” Ami bragged, standing up. The shadows fell away from her. Gudrik gave a small, but genuine nod of acknowledgment. “Has its advantages,” she said kicking one of the sleeping greys.

  “Enough chatter!” roared George’s voice from thin air.

  “Agreed,” said Kahn who was crouched inspecting the remnants of the salt trap. Gudrik removed the remaining shroud and George appeared. There was no longer any need for secrecy; anyone not touched by the blood was now despondent in slumber.

  George stormed up the stairs to the small office, while the Inscribed spread out, searching the vehicles and stripping some weapons and equipment from the sleeping men. Gudrik climbed the stairs; George met him at the top. “She’s not here Gudrik!” George muttered repeatedly, “She’s not here! She’s not here!”

  “Nothing Gudrik!” Kahn called up from the ground, the space echoed.

  “I fucking told you, the bitch just drew us into a trap!” spat Malaki pointing at Ami.

  “Screw you Malaki,” she replied, storming towards him. There was no fear in Ami’s eyes, despite the fact each of his arms were the girth of her legs.

  “Hold it!” interrupted Dorian. Ami halted. He was between two rows of vehicles. “I’ve got something.” He held his hand up above his head. All who had met her recognised Tabitha’s red sandal instantly. George ran down to him, clutching the shoe as if it were her missing daughter.

  The group looked about desperately; there was nothing in there, nowhere to go. “Was it merely a trap? Or am I missing something?” The Warlock’s thoughts were scattered and frantic. He was genuinely afraid, something which he was not overly experienced with. Looking down from his elevated position, the basic outline of the salt ring still stood out amongst the scattering of dead and sleeping bodies. He followed the arc around. There was only really one thing within the ring which was worthy of their attention, a large metal plate. Gudrik leapt over the rail. Once on the ground he walked over and stood on it. He stamped his foot. It resonated with a hollow thud. “Go through your shadows, see what’s on the other side,” Gudrik growled at Ami.

  “Doesn’t work like that Gudrik. I choose the shadow I go into, I’ve got no control which one I come out of,” she replied.

  “Dorian?” Kahn asked.

  “Can’t,” replied Dorian flicking his hair, “I don’t know what’s on the other side, you’d have to be an idiot to shift blind.” He grinned childishly at Gudrik. The Warlock gave a grunt in reply.

  “It’s Alright boys, I’ve always got a backup plan,” replied Ami.

  “Yeah all sorts of shifty shit going on in your head,” added Malaki.

  “Oh I’m sorry sweetie, did you wanna get all angry and bash it for a while?”

  “Just fucking open it,” he grumbled, zipping up a scavenged grey tactical vest.

  “Schendiline,” she mumbled walking towards the plate. Strings of runes which spiralled around her forearms and fingers burned bright blue as shards of crystal burst from her skin and spread, leaving her with long crystalline talons extending from her fingertips. They gleamed blue and shimmered with heat. In a few quick, powerful slashes they sliced through the heavy steel plate as if it was made of butter. The crystal plunged back into her flesh, the wounds seared closed quickly, but her arms were left bloody and the smell of burnt flesh hung in the air. Ami showed no visible signs of pain, or even discomfort for that matter.

  “I still don’t understand how you stay conscious during that babe,” said Dorian.

  “You boys are all pussies,” she shot back, wiping the blood from her forearms. Malaki shook his head
in reluctant admiration and stamped on the hatch. There was a series of heavy clangs as the dislodged piece of metal bounced down a stairway, the slashes still glowed red with heat.

  The group looked down into the basement of the facility. The stairwell ran deep and was poorly lit, but light streamed through the arch at the end of it. George started off down the steps without hesitation and the rest quickly followed. “A dingy subterranean lair? A bit cliché,” mumbled Dorian to Ami.

  At the bottom they found themselves in not a room, but an earthen corridor which extended east to west. The passage was carved directly out of the heavy bedrock with tangled arteries of wires and piping snaking along the roof. It was much cooler down there insulated from the blustery night above.

  Gudrik led the group towards the eastern end of the tunnel, rounding slightly towards the north. There was a sudden flicker in the lights, flashing long sporadic shadows throughout the cavern. The train halted and George bumped into Gudrik’s back. They eyed the fluorescent bulb above them. The light hung bright for a moment, then disappeared completely. Black swarmed in flooding the passage. If not for the faint glow fighting its way down the stairwell they would not have been able to see their hand an inch before their eyes. “Don’t suppose that was just