165. Always Time For Shenanigans (Patreon)

The second Stalker shot towards the City Council building as fast as his lightweight and the Lightning spell would allow. He used Shadow Step with ease, ascending a cliff face to the neighboring district. The maneuver rapidly decreased his energy stores, but time was of the essence. Thanks to the Spell Garden, he didn’t have to deal with the mental strain that came with holding the spellform in his mind and anchoring the mantle to wherever his shadow projectile struck.

El-Prime had timed their outing into the city to coincide with the weekly council meeting. The clone had time on his hands but raced directly toward it. He had instructions to only pause for food and water. Theft was the only option. They didn’t have the luxury of carrying money or accessing the journal’s storage.

Instead of prioritizing food, the clone went for water. El-Prime had instructed them to find barrels or giant processed ice cubes they could contain in Shadowsteel vats. Instead, the Stalker snuck into a magic store in the high-end markets near city hall. The improved arcane senses that came with the Mind Pillar’s ascension helped him avoid the local wards. Shade’s Mantle and Shadow Veil ensured that none of the guards could detect him.

The Stalker comfortably slipped in and out of stores, scanning tomes, essences, and shards. He had a rough idea of what he wanted. The challenge was finding something suitable that El-Prime would appreciate.

Because of the biome and local fauna, magic and resources naturally available in the region favored cold and ice. People only used them for construction or fighting the elements. They weren’t overly popular. Instead, the city and kingdom traded them with other kingdoms. Union and City Council contacts suggested that the arid regions to the south greatly favored them. More importantly, the shops weren’t short of them.

Initially, the Stalker ignored the spell tomes and manuals. Merlin would appreciate them for inspiration, but thanks to Spellweaver, they didn’t much help with putting together spells. He wasn’t too keen on carrying much either, prioritizing enchanted objects capable of creating water in any form. His resolve broke on spotting a palm-sized, navy-blue book bound in blue-dyed leather. It was decorated with silver filigree. There was no writing on the cover, but a dust-covered label below it read: An Ice Sculptor’s Confessions. 

A shadow-covered figure moving between shelves was bound to stand out. As a result, he had to stick to the poorly lit corner of the store far from where the door guards and shopkeepers stood. The wares in the area were dusty, old, and ignored. He used them more for scouting for more valuable wares ripe for a smash-and-grab. The little book went in the Stalker’s pocket as he scanned the enchanted objects.

There were tools for creating conjuring icewalls, blocks, and ramps. He guessed they were perfect for mountain traversal. If there was no clear path or a ravine in the way, the user could use one such enchanted item to create their own road. 

Before the Stalker could close in on the cabinet containing them, a pair of customers entered the store. One was a short, pudgy man. The other a slender, tall woman who moved with the elegance of a dancer. Her pale skin sharply contrasted with her raven-black hair, and her striking blue eyes caught the clone’s attention. In any other situation, he would’ve taken a break from the mission and approached her. Unfortunately, there was no telling whether Lady Silverspine’s cult had picked up his scent or not. He needed to act quickly, grab what was necessary, and then head towards the council building. He was not the only clone with the task, but that didn't mean he could ignore it altogether.

Much to his disappointment, the duo stopped at a display case of enchanted amulets nearby, and the shopkeeper rushed over to assist them. Going for enchanted objects became an impossibility. However, on leaving his counter, the shopkeeper had left it and all the items below it unattended. In the clones’ experiences, it was where they kept the essences. He hoped to find something that would solve their water problem.

The Stalker stayed low, moving in an awkward crouch. He poured extra magic into the Shadow Veil. It blended with the surroundings much better than Silencing Shadow and erased more than just sound. He didn't need to worry about arcane detection or sound while under its protection. The couple had their back to him, but the shopkeeper stood side on. He appeared busy up-selling a gold amulet implanted with rubies, and the Stalker hoped it was enough to hold his attention. His greatest concern was the guards.

The store had three. One guarded the rear entrance, which opened into an alley between the stone building and its garment-selling neighbor. A bit of simple sound magic and a Shadow Illusion got him to leave his post for a moment, allowing the Stalker to sneak in. Another guarded the front entrance. A third stood just inside. His eyes were currently focused on the couple, primarily the woman, but that meant the Stalker would need to cross his line of sight. 

Deep breaths.

The guard tried to remain professional. The Stalker could see the fight in the man's eyes. He appeared to be trying his best to just watch faces and hands. His willpower failed when the woman lowered her fur coat, fanning her neck. Eyes wandered down, and blinking slowed. It was then the Stalker moved, swiftly crossing the distance between his hiding spot and the counter. 

It was a cloudy day, and magic lamps lit the store's interior, casting long shadows. One hung directly over the counter, but it blocked the Stalker's line of sight. He felt exposed. The shopkeeper would spot him as soon as he moved deeper into the store. Haste was of utmost importance.

Well, that's a relief.

More than a dozen essences sat under the counter. The Stalker lacked the means to determine their function without the journal. More importantly, there was a ward in the way, and it was far more potent than what the cult had left behind. The merchant’s security was more lax than that of his competitors because he had invested heavily in it's protection. The Stalker’s senses told him that he wasn't dealing with one but a series of interconnected magical defenses. They appeared strongest at the opening of where the essences were stored. 

His heart raced as he scanned for weak points. The Stalker had spent far too much time sneaking in and trying to get to the counter. He refused to leave with nothing but the little blue book, which could very well prove useless and only contain a mage’s idle thoughts. 

That's it!

Relief came when he found a corner near the floor where dust accumulation and rough attempts at cleaning it had damaged the edge of a spell circle. It wasn’t enough to break down the entire structure, but the intricate fabric of the ward had a fray. The Stalker lacked the expertise to unravel it altogether, but he successfully loosened the knots enough to open a part of the panel. 

The opening wasn’t large enough to reach the essences. There were a few shades of pale blue that had intrigued the Stalker, but he didn’t have the time or ability to get to them. However, the time-and-grime-stained glass hid more: shards. There were three. Two were glassy and clear. He knew at a glance that one of them was a cracked shard. Only a rare ritual would grant it power. Most considered them trash, but El-Prime considered them a blank compass and had spent a couple of years looking for one.

The second clear shard appeared denser and had a pale blue hue. It felt potent and had a sense of purity that soothed the Stalker. He pocketed both, carefully removing them from the case without letting pointed ends touch any edges. He didn’t want the potent magic within interacting with the wards. Hesitation struck for a moment before going for the final shard.

Has he done us any harm? Does this guy deserve to be ripped off for being a dick?

El-Prime had entered the store once while looking for shards. It was not long after his arrival in the Gray. He wasn’t well-established, didn’t have the deepest pockets. The shopkeeper had treated him horribly and been rude for no reason besides the quality of clothes he wore and what he could afford. Later, when Morph visited as a member of the Aquila guild, he had received exceptional treatment, leaving a bad taste in their collective mouth.

Fuck it. I don’t like him, and these have been sitting here for a while. 

The last shard in the case was just as dusty as the others. It was a deep green, almost noxious. The Stalker doubted El-Prime would get much use out of it, but all Attunements were vital for Assistant Spindle and Mira. He retreated toward the rear exit again when the floorboards suddenly creaked under his foot, making his eyes widen. It was then he realized the Shadow Veil spell was no longer active. He had nothing but Shade’s Mantle running.

All eyes darted to the Stalker. All men except the guard appeared confused, but it was the slender woman who moved first. The long fur coat she had lowered to her waist fell, exposing her long red dress. Initially, the low cut had drawn eyes to her cleavage. Now, the lack of sleeves and a slit down the sides highlighted her limbs. Her pale skin made it look like she was carved from marble. The bangle on her left wrist pulsed a soft white. She took a step towards the Stalker and the accessory’s luminosity increased. 

His stomach dropped. The woman didn’t look as tall or wide without her armor, but the bangle and inability to access magic told him everything he needed to know. The Stalker gave up on all attempts at stealth and sprinted for the back door. 

“Stop him!” The shopkeeper yelled, spurring his staff into motion. 

The guard at the entrance banged his fist against the door, alerting his colleague. Both came after the Stalker together. They lagged far behind the woman. She was significantly faster. In fact, the Stalker worried that without magic, she was likely to catch up with him. He pulled down a cabinet, just as the rear door burst open. The guard on the other side didn’t get the time to react. The Stalker flared Shade’s Mantle. He used Shadow Illusion to create a silhouette of himself an arm’s length away. The guard lunged toward it, allowing the Stalker to slip out through the rear open door.

Once outside the building, the clone felt arcane threads just about within his reach. He wasn’t cut off from the spellforms within the Confluence. Instead, it felt like a heavy, thick, viscous mass hung between his will and the arcane energy within. Attempting to push through it left the clone with a pulsating headache.

Refusing to give up, the Stalker ran. He kept to the streets, leaving the alley and slipping down another. He knew losing the woman wasn’t possible in the long term. However, if she relied on the bangle’s pulsations to trace his presence, its ability to read signals and provide information was something he could use to his advantage. The tool wasn’t a compass, after all. 

It took a couple of minutes to reach a point where the anti-magic was no longer a problem, and then one more before he could comfortably use energy. The Stalker enhanced himself with a lightning spell and leaped to the roofs, continuing toward the nearby guardhouse. Heading to City Hall was no longer an option. Bowie was meant for the same destination, and he refused to draw the woman into his path.

Take her on a wild goose chase and then straight to the guards. 

The Stalker was just starting to feel good about his chances when his instincts told him to dive from the roofs. He obeyed only to hear the stone shingles he was running on shatter. A noxious energy lingered in the air for a moment before fading. As soon as he recovered and started moving again, the familiar weightiness of the anti-magic field returned. The strength wasn’t enough to break his control of the spell. Instead, it left him with a headache as he sprinted toward his destination.

When he heard a pop above, the Stalker ducked. A projectile exploded against the wall to his left, showering him with white shrapnel covered in crimson goo. Holding onto the speed enhancement spell became even harder.

I’m not going to make it.

The clone changed direction again, giving up on trying to get to the guardhouse. Instead, he ran into the high-end indoor market where servants of the city’s affluent bought their groceries. He kept going until he felt none of the anti-magic field’s effects before breaking one of the biggest rules El-Prime had set. The journal manifested in the Stalker’s hands. He dropped the stolen shards and books into his storage before sprinting toward the closest exit. 

Pedestrians screamed as a man wrapped in darkness rushed past them. The Stalker compressed the mantle into Shadowsteel, hoping the armor would protect him from the bone fragments. Now that there were two people on him, he no longer cared about getting them anywhere in particular. Instead, he fled through the streets, weaving through stalls or alleys whenever the odd bone projectiles struck something nearby. The frequency of incoming attacks slowed as he approached one of the local guilds. He had created some distance and now needed to buy the other clones time.

Given the armed, uniformless people on the streets, he was sure the city had hired some of them for increased protection. They were likely investigating the recent disturbance closely. The Stalker rushed into the guild house. Alarmed guards attempted to block his path, but he was too fast. Once inside, he removed the Shadowsteel covering his face and head.

“One hundred shells to whoever helps me!” He yelled. “I’m a golem of Lukas Zaun, and there is someone after me.”

“Make it two hundred,” a toothless giant of a man said. He wore just a vest and fur skirt.

“Three,” said a petite woman, quickly overtaking him. “We’ll split it three ways. Who are we protecting you from, handsome?” She paused, tilting her head as she studied the clone. “You really a golem?”

“The dragon cult that attacked our home,” the Stalker answered. He doubted they stood much of a chance, but it was an opportunity to arm more people against Lady Silverspine’s people. A larger conflict would also give him the opportunity to witness their abilities before he dispelled himself. “Two of them are pursuing me. Big, sexy girl. I didn’t see the other one.” He paused, frowning. “Split three ways? Who is your third?”

“Me.” Another man appeared by the Stalker’s side, making him jump. Exhaustion and the headache dulling his senses, but he didn’t expect a member of a lesser guild to reach him without detection. “Why don’t you go with Sally into the back? She’ll find you a nice place to hide.”

There were two dozen people in the guildhall’s entry hallway, and all of them were on their feet. At first, the Stalker assumed they were all heading toward the door. Now, he noticed how they were all watching him hungrily. The weight of the anti-magic field returned a moment later. 

“Which way, Sally?” he asked the petite woman.

“Follow me.” She flashed him a sultry smile. 

The clone followed her for a moment, tracking the others with his peripheral vision. All eyes were following him. None watched the front entrance or the large windows on either side of them. Sally led him through one of the two doors at the back of the room into a hallway.

“We’ll take you somewhere nice and private where they can’t reach you. It’s nice, secure, and perfect for some alone time.” Sally winked at him. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Really? With a golem?”

“You don’t feel like a golem.” Sally’s hand reached for his cheek but froze inches away. The Stalker had moved faster and grabbed her throat.

“You’re working for them, aren’t you?” He demanded, and knew the answer before she could reply. Sally’s eyes told him everything he needed to know. The Stalker dispelled himself immediately. He hadn’t led them as far away from City Hall as planned, but all the information he had gathered regarding the cultists and their methods would prove invaluable for El-Prime.