Chapter 269
Xander the Wizard
Alexander cleared the mountain range as the snow gave way to grass beneath him. Rolling green hills stretched outward, dotted with copses of trees and the occasional stream cutting through shallow valleys.
He stretched his senses as far as they would go. Electrokinesis swept outward, hunting for bioelectrical signatures. Metallokinesis pulsed in a wider wave, searching for anything metal and moving.
Empty. For kilometers in every direction, there was nothing larger than wildlife.
He burst upward. The ground shrank beneath him. Wind tore at him, whipping his hair and the white suit jacket against his chest. He punched through the cloud layer and kept climbing until the air thinned and the sky above darkened toward indigo.
Then he stopped, and turned.
The world spread out beneath the clouds in every direction. Mountain peaks broke through the white to the north. Grasslands rolled south and west. And to the east, past a stretch of forest that blanketed the foothills, the land flattened toward a distant glint of blue.
The coast.
Alexander ramped up his Core. Electrokinesis flooded through the Heart of the Machine, sharpening everything. His eyes found detail in the haze. The glint resolved into water. A bay, curving inward from the sea. And wrapped around its shores, a city.
He wanted to return to the village and share what he’d learned with Wargah. Offer them the ship’s staff and spellbook. Propose a plan where he’d hunt down more, and the clan could distribute them in secret, teach from the spellbook, make staves, all without binding anything to the System. A revolution began with a spark, but it didn’t have to burn hot right from the start.
“We are going to find you, invader.” The whisper curled through his thoughts, intimate and unwelcome. “There is nowhere you can hide from the gaze of the Empress. The Stars see all.”
Alexander said nothing. The Whispering Wanker was full of shit, but he was also clearly growing more and more agitated at being unable to locate him. He kept his eyes on the city.
Returning to the camp immediately carried risks. The ships were still searching. He’d just fought two squads and kidnapped a wizard. Whatever trail he’d left, cold or otherwise, pointed toward the mountains. Going straight back to Wargah’s people was the fastest way to lead the Empire to them.
A city, on the other hand, was the last place anyone would look for him. An outsider who didn’t speak the language, didn’t have magic, and had just declared war on the Empire’s military presence would never walk into one of their major population centers.
Which was exactly why he should.
Alexander frowned. The problem was the disguise. He couldn’t speak the language. Droney had to translate everything. His cybernetic arm stood out. And he was currently wearing a white suit that belonged to another world.
He looked down and clicked his tongue. A white suit speckled with blood. He licked his thumb and rubbed at one of the spots, but it accomplished nothing.
He gave up and reached into the ring. The staff from the ship came first, ancient wood with the uncut red gemstone. Then the spellbook, heavy and leather-bound. He tucked them into the crook of his arm.
Next came a set of wizard robes taken from one of the dead earlier. Blue and gold. Only slightly dirty and bloody.
He held them up. They would suffice. He stacked the spellbook on top of Droney. The drone dipped under the weight and beeped indignantly.
“Stop complaining. It’s just for a moment.”
The staff went on top of the spellbook. Droney sank another inch, then rose and beeped louder.
Alexander began unbuttoning his jacket.
***
Sambor yawned.
Torches set on either side of the gate flickered, fighting back the darkness. The sun had slipped below the horizon some time ago, which meant his shift would be up soon, though he knew Galnah would arrive late. As he always did. Bastard.
His thoughts turned to ale and the new maid at the Bay Tavern, and he let out another yawn.
Then a rush of wind washed over him, causing the torch flames to gutter for a moment.
A figure dropped from the sky fast. Sambor stumbled backward, hand going to the wand at his hip, a shout dying in his throat.
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The figure stopped instantly. One foot above the ground, robes of blue and gold settling around him. They were bloodied, but the archmage before him seemed unbothered. His arms were folded behind his back. His chin was tilted upward. Torchlight and shadow danced across his face as dark eyes gazed down his nose at Sambor with bored contempt.
A staff floated at his left side. Ancient wood, dark and gnarled, with an uncut red gemstone the size of a fist nestled at the top, casting rays of red in every direction. Bands of gold and silver wrapped the length of the shaft, gleaming in the torchlight.
A thick, leatherbound spellbook hovered at his right. Its pages turned on their own, drifting back and forth lazily, as though browsing its own contents.
And just above the wizard’s shoulder, floated a spirit familiar. It was encased in a helmet of polished metal, leaving only a single slit that glowed a deep, furious blue.
The glow fixed on Sambor.
Sambor’s hand fell away from his wand.
The familiar spoke. Its voice was clear, resonant, and carried an authority that made Sambor’s knees want to buckle.
“You stand in the presence of Xander Crimalot, He Who Is Silent, of the Fifth Circle. Open the gates and step aside.”
Sambor reached for the gate mechanism. His fingers fumbled.
The familiar’s blue glow intensified. “The Exalted One’s presence in this city is not to be spoken of to anyone. If word of his arrival reaches a single ear, he will know where it began.”
The glow dimmed to its previous level. The familiar added, almost pleasantly, “And He Who Is Silent does not forgive.”
Sambor swallowed hard, and pulled the lever. He stumbled backward a step as the Exalted floated past.
The Exalted’s feet landed on the cobblestone as the city’s anti-flight ward took over, and he reached out a hand to catch his familiar.
***
Alexander slipped into the nearest alley and pressed his back against the wall.
The staff and spellbook went into the ring with a thought.
He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction at the modifications. Thin wire wrapped along the staff’s length. Needles slipped between the spellbook’s pages and embedded in the spine. Enough metal to float both and flip the spellbook’s pages with Metallokinesis while looking like proper wizard levitation.
His senses spread across the city. Thousands of bioelectrical signatures pulsed in every direction. Concentrated in the blocks closer to the bay, thinning as the streets wound uphill toward the outskirts where he’d entered. Five thousand people. Maybe more.
“I can’t believe that worked so well. Did you see that guy’s face?”
Droney beeped quietly.
“Yeah, your acting was spot on. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
Droney beeped again. Smug.
Alexander peeled away from the wall and moved deeper into the alley, keeping his senses stretched wide. Two signatures were walking along the street he’d just left. Another group of three moved through a parallel road, heading away from him. A lone figure sat motionless in front of a building two streets over.
He tracked them all, ignoring those inside, and plotted a route through the gaps.
The robes had to go. He’d needed a way into the city that didn’t involve crashing like a meteorite in the event the city had an anti-flight ward. Which it did. But now he needed something local. Something forgettable. A bloodied Stars wizard attracted exactly the wrong kind of attention in a city full of people who feared the Empire, even if the number of wands he sensed suggested the Empire had plenty of willing servants here.
A clothesline would do. A closed clothes store would be better.
He found a main street two blocks down. Storefronts lined both sides, most of them shuttered for the night. Halfway along, a hanging sign creaked in the breeze. The painted image was simple enough to transcend language. A shirt and a pair of trousers.
Alexander waited. Two signatures moved along the far end of the street, heading away. A third turned a corner and disappeared.
Clear.
He crossed the street in three quick strides, flicked a finger at the lock, and sent a precise pulse of Metallokinesis into the mechanism. It clicked. He slipped inside and pulled the door shut behind him.
The store was small. Racks of clothing lined the walls. Folded stacks on wooden tables. Everything was in muted earth tones, and made of wool, linen, and leather.
Alexander rifled through the nearest rack. He held up a shirt, then frowned and put it back. He tried another. Frowned harder.
The quality was terrible.
He blamed Augustus entirely. Before that man had dragged him to a tailor and introduced him to the concept of rich people fabrics, he’d been perfectly happy wearing whatever was available. Now he was standing in a wizard clothing store in another reality, judging thread count by touch.
Droney beeped. A query.
Alexander grinned, holding up a shirt that could have fit Wargah.
“Don’t worry, buddy. I have the perfect disguise.”
***
Alexander stepped out of the store a few minutes later, locked the door with a flick of his fingers, and started walking down the street.
He patted his belly with both hands and let out a satisfied sigh.
Droney beeped dejectedly from beneath his shirt.
“Shh. You’re a stomach.”
Another beep. Muffled. Offended.
Alexander adopted an exaggerated waddle, rolling his shoulders with each step. The oversized shirt bulged convincingly over the padding of extra clothes and one very unhappy drone. The sleeves hung past his wrists, covering the cybernetic arm entirely. Between the earth-tone clothing and the belly, he was certain he looked like any other working man heading home after a long day and a large meal.
“Okay, here’s the story,” Alexander said quietly, barely moving his lips. “I lost my voice in an accident in the mines. But luckily, my magical talent is to cast my voice.”
Droney beeped. A question.
“Yes, from my stomach. If anyone asks, I just think it’s very funny.”
A long, slow beep. The bond radiated something that could only be described as exaggerated despair hiding a sliver of amusement.
“Stop being dramatic. This is genius. I can’t wait to tell the others all about it.”
